Listen For Thunder
by Ergott
Summary: Every man has his breaking point; Jareth reached his 5 years ago. Every woman has regrets; can Sarah ever make amends? Sequel to Dramatic Orchestrations. JS.
1. Reflections

Listen…

There is a knocking in the skull,

An endless silent shout

Of something beating on a wall,

And crying, Let me out.

That solitary prisoner

Will never hear reply,

No comrade in eternity

Can hear the frantic cry.

No heart can share the terror

That haunts his monstrous dark;

The light that filters through the chinks

No other eye can mark.

When flesh is linked with eager flesh,

And words run warm and full,

I think that he is loneliest then,

The captive in the skull.

Caught in a mesh of living veins,

In cell of padded bone,

He loneliest is when he pretends

That he is not alone.

We'd free the incarcerate race of man

That such a doom endures

Could only you unlock my skull,

Or I creep into yours.

* * *

Chapter One: Reflections.

The library was quiet, as libraries often are, but this was the quiet of closing time, those precious few hours when the building stood empty, aside from the lone librarian who was straightening books and a few straggling patrons.

In the corner of a lonely stack, someone muffled a shriek.

* * *

_The world was changing again, becoming more and less than it had once been, the air holding a promise of impending disaster. He no longer had any concept of time, events blurred into one another until his entire life seemed like a senseless jumble. Distantly he could hear himself talking. He was just so tired, he thought, overdrawn and worn out, battle-weary. _

_The self-awareness that was left of the creature known as Jareth plunged deeper into the quiet abyss of himself, wanting nothing more than to sleep._

_His lips continued to chant while his mind wrapped itself tightly in a web of numbness. The words repeated, a hundred times over, his voice giving life to a fact that his mind was already hiding from._

"_Sarah is gone."_

_His consciousness trembled before being drawn deeper into himself, away from the pain and the torment, away from everything._

"_Sarah is gone."_

_But the words never stopped._

* * *

Sarah placed a trembling hand on the bookshelf to steady herself.

She had been going about her job as usual, re-shelving books before the library closed. As she had mounted the small stepladder her mind had been tripping over mundane details, like what she might have for dinner that night or how many boxes she should bring with her when she went to visit her family. Steady hands had been going through the routine of straightening and organizing books, mechanical in their seeming practice, when something had streaked past her.

Something that had looked like a goblin.

It was not the first time that she had seen a creature of the Underground out of the corner of her eye or flitting from shadow to shadow, and it wasn't likely to be the last, either. Over the past year or so it had become an increasingly common occurrence.

Memories welled up inside of her, but Sarah pushed them down with the same iron-strength determination that she always wielded when the past tried to catch up with her.

With a sigh she straightened herself on the stepladder, ignoring the amulet the slipped out of the folds of her blouse. The incident meant nothing, she reassured herself, quickly falling back into the steady pace of her work. It had probably just been her mind playing tricks; by the time she made it back to her apartment she would probably have forgotten the whole thing.

But in her heart, she knew it wasn't true.

* * *

_He was not a man. Undoubtedly he was the proper shape for it, and certainly male in any case, but not a man. His skin was a midnight blue, a startling contrast to his straight fall of pure silver hair; his face was angular, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, and brows that flared aristocratically over iridescent eyes; his body was tall and lithe, always covered in light flowing clothing. He was a child of the night, as dark and mercurial as the full moon that danced through fields of stars._

_Oran the Brash, they had once called him; Oran the King, Oran the Lover, Oran the Celestial._

_His gaze fell to the bed that he was currently holding a silent vigil over. Jareth—his eldest son, his heir, his greatest achievement and possibly his greatest failure—laid in a sea of pillows and blankets, a relative invalid, and he began to wonder if perhaps he should have been known as Oran the Fool._

_How was it that a man could give all he had, teach his son all he knew, and still have to face the horrible reality of a situation like this? _

_Sarah Williams had blasted in and out of their lives in the blink of an eye, and for five years Jareth had steadily been losing his mind. In that first year it hadn't been so apparent, then there had come a day when he hadn't recognized his own brothers—a memory that still made Oran heartsick—and these days they were lucky if the man was able to get out of bed at all. Whatever had happened between him and the girl had robbed his son of something that was integral to his very being. It was as though what essentially made Jareth who he was just wasn't there anymore._

_Oran was no fool. He knew Sarah had spent too much time Underground to be able to return back to the Above; Jareth, already overwrought by defeat, had done something to allow the girl to go back, something that had cost him dearly. _

_A pained moan brought his attention back to the bed. His pale child of winter, usually so brilliant in his silver and gold coloring, was barely even a shadow of his former self. He looked washed-out, his radiance faded, ill. _

_Oran would have been lying if he said wasn't upset with the Williams girl for what was happening, but he also knew it wasn't her fault. Jareth had created this own hell for himself, Sarah had just been the innocent that accidentally pushed him into it. She was doubtlessly suffering as well, just as they all were._

_It didn't seem right, really, how the grand resolution left everyone wounded. _

* * *

Sarah settled on her couch with a sigh, ready to go through the old boxes of her things. She had only recently gotten her own apartment—a tiny little thing that was just one town over from her family—and every time she visited home Karen seemed to have a new box for her to take. This trip had been no exception.

The sealing tape came off easily, the cardboard flaps springing open instantly. Only the two items on the very top registered to Sarah: an hourglass of green glass and black sand, and a note.

Her heart stopped; the flood of memories rushed up and refused to be dammed this time.

She had killed him. Perhaps not in the literal sense, but Sarah _knew_ Jareth wasn't well, wasn't whole. They had faced off in the Labyrinth of his heart, him determined and desperate to win, and her running from the horror of finally glimpsing what was perhaps his truest face: a depth of power she couldn't even begin to understand and no moral boundaries to keep it in check. What had horrified her even more was that, in some way, she hadn't wanted it to come down to that; she had been starting to trust him, had realized that she wanted him in her life. But the situation with Toby, the fact that Jareth had put a splice of himself into her brother, had shocked her beyond comprehension, and her reaction had caused something within the Goblin King to snap. He had become bestial, aggressive, and she had been too overwhelmed by the circumstances _not_ to have become afraid of him. So she had plowed through the maze his heart had presented, defeating him with the cruelly timed realization that he loved her as perhaps no one else ever could.

Her eyes stared blankly at the final note he had left her. The words had long since burned themselves into her mind, a fiery brand of guilt that she could not escape.

_Sarah,_

_You have destroyed me in more ways then you could ever imagine. You may have won your freedom, and that of your family, but know this: it will never end, this is not something you can escape._

God, wasn't that true. Even now, years later, she could still _feel_ him, the cool tinge of his chaotic emotions rising through that strange connection they shared. She could still feel the emptiness in her life where he had once been, and the longing for him to resume that position that made her guilt even worse.

And no one was really free, when she thought about it. She was plagued by doubts, regrets, nightmares, and an empathic link with a man who was slowly going crazy because of what she had done. Karen and Robert went about their daily lives doing their best never to speak about the event. And Toby…

The boy had good days and bad days. Most of the time he was just a normal ten year old, but sometimes he seemed to be trapped within a terror that he could not escape.

_Is it possible for a woman to never be ready enough to accept her destiny?_

Was it? She didn't know. She wanted Jareth like she had never wanted anyone before (or since), regret over what had happened was a living thing within her, but she was still afraid of him, of his callous disregard for others and his careless use of questionable powers.

_Keep the amulet close; it is a sacrifice that will keep you safe. Understand that I have given you what little I have left, and it may very well haunt you until the end of your days._

Keep it close? She hadn't been able to take the damn thing off!

In the days following her final confrontation with Jareth, Sarah had tried with everything in her to forget those events; she had packed away anything that had reminded her of him, and had tried to be rid of the amulet. Perhaps it was Jareth's own magic, or perhaps the amulet had simply been designed never to be taken off, but every time she had tried the chain had either shortened itself or snagged on her clothing; either way, in five years the thing had never left her skin.

_Our paths will cross again, Sarah. Fate is uncanny in that way. Will you be ready to accept responsibility for what you've done when that day comes?_

She shuddered at the very thought. Jareth's disordered feelings pouring into her and mixing with her own had almost made normal living impossible, but she had tried her best to put the past behind her. Facing the man again might very well kill her.

_Remember the mirror._

She didn't want to.

Sarah had faced many mirrors during her time with Jareth but, somehow, she knew which on he had been referring to: one Jareth, angry and frightened, another Jareth that was a broken shell of the man he had once been, and Sarah herself absolutely nowhere to be found.

_Jareth_

The hand that had signed that name had been shaky, lacking a certain flourish that she somehow knew it had previously possessed. She had done that; reduced a king to a man who could barely sign his own name because he was wounded so badly.

A pain gathered at the corners of her eyes and, for the first time in five years, Sarah finally allowed the tears to fall.

* * *

_It had been a vague miracle that Jareth had managed to hold on to himself enough to continue ruling his kingdom, but that miracle had come to an end. Oran was faced with two options: resume the crown himself and wait for the monarchy to die out with him—for he knew neither of the Twins would wish to take the throne—or swallow his pride._

_The fact of the matter was that, though Jareth himself was in an awful state, his shade—the spirit of the Labyrinth that he had never been able to approve of—was fit enough for the task. _

"_The shade can rule by proxy," Oran explained to his wife. "No one will know the difference. The kingdom will continue on it has, no one knowing what has become of Jareth aside from those who must know. With the Labyrinth handling the land, we can put all of our efforts behind finding a way to help our son."_

"_Is there nothing else we can do?" Leshia asked on a sob._

_He comforted her as best he could, not sure his own heart could bear any more of this torture. "She must return," Oran said grimly, "Sarah maybe the only one who can undo this."_

* * *

_Shadows had a life of their own, dancing through the darkness and collecting in convenient pockets. All the same, the shadows that collected on Sarah Williams's balcony were not natural. A dense darkness had rolled over the area, cloaking that which wished to remain hidden. _

_Two sets of knowing and concerned eyes watched as the mortal woman dissolved into sobs. Two sets of eyes regarded each other in the enveloping darkness and silently reached the conclusion that it was time to do something._

* * *

A/N: Welcome to the much-anticipated sequel of Dramatic Orchestrations! I have two _very_ important things to say, so I ask that you listen carefully: first, I recommend that you re-read D.O., skim it at the very least, if for no other reason than to brush up on what happened (if you don't have that kind of time on your hands or simply don't want to, them just read the last chapter or two); second, I didn't intend to start this for another month or so, not until Bodice Ripper was done, but I was re-reading D.O. over the last few days, and the itch to continue completely snared me. I can't promise that there will be more or consistent updates until Bodice Ripper is finished, so this may be it for a few weeks.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: The poem 'Listen' belongs to the late Ogden Nash, just as Labyrinth belongs to the late Jim Henson.


	2. The Little Princes Return

Chapter Two: The Little Princes Return.

_Unto each child of the Stars a unique gift was bestowed. For some it was the power of compassion or serenity, a subtle control of the environment or the power to make others laugh. For centuries no two gifts spawned from the same womb had ever been alike, and thus the Imperial Twins were an anomaly. Many held that since they shared such a strong bond between siblings, both had developed the same gift of being able to make those around them temporarily forget all that was worrisome or stressful. Jareth had often scoffed at the theory and proposed his own in return: one twin likely had a power that was so asinine it did not make any sort of impact when in manifested._

_The Twins, for their part, kept their silence on the subject. They knew precisely which brother caused the forgetfulness and what it was the other brother could do. It was a strange burden for a pair of tricksters to bear: one knowing the anxiety he caused in those around him, and the other diligently keeping his brother's secret while hiding his own power so that they would have to suffer the responsibility together. _

_It was no secret to them that Imm caused the chaos and Laim cleaned it up._

_Though not twins by birth, the two brothers considered themselves to be twins by soul; two halves of the same whole. They had watched each other's backs for centuries, had become so tuned in to each other that communication barely required words anymore. _

_And that was how, standing in the blackness of Sarah's balcony, they managed to reach a solid decision without ever even making eye contact. One twin would touch the door on the way in, and the other would touch it on the way out._

* * *

Sarah hiccupped into the pillow she'd grabbed to burry her face in, and immediately dissolved back into sobs. They were sobs of the uncomfortable, rib-wracking variety and, though it was a relief to finally let out some of the bottled up emotions she had inside of her, it was quickly becoming painful. She had obviously kept this in for _way_ too long.

A tentative feeling stole over her, silencing her cries for a moment. Something cool and concerned seemed to whisper over her empathic senses; soothing, and yet at the same time perhaps a little triumphant. Was it meant to be a reassurance from a broken Jareth, or was it not aimed to her at all? After everything she had done to him, it didn't seem right that he, in all his inner chaos, should still be reaching out to her.

The thought would have made her cry even harder if her balcony door hadn't chosen that moment to melt into a strange puddle of wood pulp and melted glass. She sniffled and eyed the mercurial ooze that was slowly spreading toward her carpet then stared into the gaping hole that had once been a door, at the shadows beyond it that seemed to whisper.

Sarah frowned and strained her ears. As a matter of fact, the shadows _were_ whispering.

"Perhaps we should have knocked first; this seems a bit dramatic for our purposes."

"Look, it was either that or explode the thing off its hinges, which _definitely_ would have given the wrong impression."

"Again, knocking probably would have been a good idea."

"Well it's a bit late now, isn't it?"

There was a sheepish sort of silence that followed, in which Sarah got off of her couch as quietly as possible. She had nearly made it to the front door, her fingers twitching over a 9 and a 1 on the phone she had snagged along the way, when the voices finally got themselves sorted out.

"O Mighty Destroyer of Stoves," a familiar voice carried through her apartment, "may we come in?"

"We would knock," the other, equally familiar, voice added, "only there isn't much of a door left on which to do so."

Sarah's heart lurched painfully and she was surprised that she didn't breakdown into sobs again. Her time had obviously run out; for five years she had managed to avoid the past, knowing that sooner or later she would have to pay for the decisions that she had made, and it seemed that tonight the Reaper had come to collect; or rather, Reapers. She turned around in a slow, jerky move, but already knew what she would see behind her.

Framed in the open doorway was Imm, a boy who was so vibrantly alive that he seemed to repel the shadows that surrounded him. When they had first met, Sarah had thought that he looked to be around her age; she had grown in the years between, but he had not. Imm appeared to be a boy in his late teens, with sun-kissed dusky skin and hair that fell in a short and wild, butter-yellow mop that just grazed the back of his ears. He wore dark breeches and boots, like his eldest brother, but his shirt was a vivid, flashing green that nearly matched the color of his eyes; the boy couldn't have personified the spring any better if he had tried.

Slightly behind Imm was his 'twin'. Laim now appeared to be her equal in age, though he was doubtlessly centuries older. This twin brought to mind everything that represented autumn. He had skin of a warm light brown, and eyes the exact shade of burnt-orange that leaves took on just before they fell from the trees. The feature that drew her attention, though, was his hair. Laim had locks of dark auburn that he always pulled back into a loose braid. He was similarly dressed as his brother, but his shirt was a fiery red rather than an energetic green.

"What do you want?" Sarah blurted, backing up a few steps when they cautiously made their way inside.

Laim frowned at her question. "We're not seeking any sort of retribution or penance, Sarah," he replied gently. "You did what you thought was right; no one can blame you for that."

"But we think everyone has suffered enough," Imm added, flouncing on her sofa while unashamedly going through the box of her old things that she had abandoned there. "It's time to end it, don't you agree?" he asked while gently setting the hourglass on her small end-table.

Sarah's eyes snagged on the green glass and a lump settled in her throat. "What do you want?" she repeated thickly.

"We just want to talk," Laim answered gently, motioning to the chair opposite where he and his brother were seated, and she was briefly struck by the absurdity of being invited to take a seat in her own home.

"And get the ball rolling," Imm added, fingers still idly running down the intricate knots of the hourglass.

* * *

_Oran was horrified at how thoroughly his son had planned things out in the event of his utter failure. The expansion and fortification of the Labyrinth, an act that had seemed ominously malicious at the time, hadn't been meant to keep people out but, rather, in. Jareth had somehow known what would happen to him after Sarah's continued refusal and, fearing his own powers under such a situation, had turned his Labyrinth from a maze into a veritable prison for himself. He had left detailed plans and instructions for his staff and the Imperial Court so that life over the next decade or so would continue on as it had for the past few centuries. And, most surprising of all, he had made provisions for Sarah's future protection. _

_From a young age Jareth had expressed an affinity for words, captivated by how easily he could hide the truth in plain sight. Word-games had been the first manifestation of the strange machinations that were typical of his son. This, though, was beyond anything Oran had seen before. Spread over his desk was a heavy piece of parchment, slightly less than a foot in length, yet packed with Jareth's strong writing. It was the contract that he had gotten Sarah to sign at the beginning of the whole ordeal. Oran had no doubt that the girl had been too distracted to read it, otherwise it wasn't likely that she ever would have signed her name._

_Read over quickly on a basely literal level and it was simply a contract mapping out the agreement between two people but, from Oran's eyes, it was something else altogether. The document was carefully worded to the point that it was absolutely littered with phrases that had double meanings. In essence, Jareth had bound Sarah to a contract that could mean virtually anything he wanted it to. The only thing that hadn't been delightfully ambiguous had been the single stipulation that Sarah could not be forced Underground by anyone other than the Goblin King himself. _

_Oran was not part of the contract, so it didn't technically apply to him; however, knowing his son, he had managed to weave some sort of magic around Sarah that would still prevent his interference. Which meant that, though they desperately needed her to help them through this mess, the girl was beyond his reach._

_But, true to Jareth's form, he had buried a useful trap within all those elegant words. The contract, in its purest light, had been meant as a waiver for the hourglass that would slowly registered how much of the thirteen hour debt had been paid back. There was a price to pay for failure to comply with the terms of the contract, though; if the hourglass was ever broken then Sarah would owe Jareth her very life._

_It was a weak shot at a narrow target, but it meant that there was still hope._

* * *

It had taken a lot of coaxing, but the Twins had eventually managed to get her into a chair. Now, sitting across from their friendly and familiar faces, Sarah found that she had hundreds of questions that she wanted to ask and no idea where to start.

Imm saved her from having to choose. "Things are not well," he said in a solemn voice that was completely at odds with his usual nature.

Laim nodded. "You suffer from regret and heartache, Jareth has been splintered beyond recognition, mother and father have become downright obsessed with trying to find a way to bring him back, Toby still carries a fracture of Jareth within him, your parents have become neurotic about anything magical and, worst of all, we're having to act like responsible adults."

"It can't carry on like this," Imm added. "No one has the fortitude to endure more of this torture, and Laim and I, for one, are tired of standing between the realms just _waiting_ for something to happen."

"And we're not the only ones," Laim interjected. "Between the realms that is."

Sarah frowned. "Does everyone know what I did?"

Laim shook his head. "This is a very dangerous time, Sarah. Jareth's powers are no less potent than they have ever been, but his control is frail. It was by his magic that the Underground was even created, a world away from the mortals. If his deterioration continues on as it has, that magic will undo itself and the Underground will go back to where it used to be."

"How do you think mortals will react to suddenly sharing their realm with every fairytale creature they convinced themselves wasn't real?" Imm asked. "There are already cracks between our worlds and those who are curious enough to take advantage of it. Doubtlessly you've seen a stray goblin or two by now; it will only get worse with time."

As if it wasn't bad enough just thinking that she had destroyed a man, now she had to contend with the fact that her actions could very well cause the chaotic merging of two completely different worlds. "So what are you here for then?" she asked. "To take me back?"

It was a thought that was as appealing as it was frightening. To be able to fix the damage she had inflicted would be a balm to her troubled soul, but to have to face the reality of that damage, to have to face _Jareth_, was an idea that left her petrified. While trapped within his heart she had seen the truth that few others of his kind would likely acknowledge: beneath the courtly and mocking demeanor lived a wild and savage soul, born with more raw power than anyone was comfortable with. His amorality tended to stem more out of defense than anything else, but the fact remained that his reactions were, more often than not, brutal and animalistic. He had waged a centuries-long war against humanity for a slight that humans no longer even knew about, he protected that which he saw as his with a fierceness that was chilling, and day after day, century after century, he had utilized those vicious instincts to rule a kingdom. It was not a trait or a habit that he could be broken of; it was, at his very basest, who Jareth was.

Laim shook his head, interrupting her thoughts. "Jareth beat us to that punch long before we even knew there was going to be trouble."

"You should see the way he worded that contract," Imm said with just the vaguest hint of frustration coloring his voice. "It was a nightmare to wade through."

"But his stipulations never said you couldn't come into contact with any of us," Laim continued. "So we translated that in the opposite direction and decided to pay you a visit."

"We would have come sooner," Imm apologized, "we can't even imagine how awful it's been for you to suffer the full magnitude of this burden alone when we've had each other for support, but we had to look something up first."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "It took you five years to look something up?"

Instead of answering, Imm asked, "May I see that amulet you're wearing?"

She leaned across the coffee table between them, extending the heavy metal medallion for the Twins' inspection. "I can't take it off," she offered quietly, though she had a feeling that they already knew that.

Two sets of hands carefully closed over the amulet and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Warmth sizzled over the chain, followed quickly by a flare of coolness. Something skittered along her nerves then, a sense of something _extra_, a certain dimension that hadn't been there before. The moment was broken once the Twins let go, and the weighty charm settled back over her T-shirt, but that inexplicable feeling of _more_ didn't go away.

She didn't dare ask, didn't think she handle the answer at the moment, but the question must have been in her eyes because Imm still answered. "Set the ball rolling," he said cryptically.

The boys rose in tandem and Sarah was gripped by an intense panic when they turned to leave. They were a connection to the Underground that she both craved and feared. The Twins could understand and sympathize with Sarah, a woman who had been forced to straddle the realms of the mundane and the fantastic, wanting neither and yet craving both, but they were another connection that tied her to Jareth, dragged her just that much further into his strangely faceted life.

"We ought to go before anyone misses us," Laim said quietly, "but we'll come back to visit soon."

Hundreds of questions still stampeded at the back of Sarah's mind—where was everyone, how were they doing aside from the obvious, was… was Jareth really in such poor condition—but faced with their imminent departure the question that burned heaviest on her tongue was undoubtedly the most frivolous. "What did exactly did you do?" she asked, waiving a hand to indicate the shadowed hole that led to her balcony.

Imm smiled devilishly. "Made it forget that it was a door."

"You can do that?" She wanted to gape in surprise, but the idea honestly didn't astound her very much after all the magic she had been exposed to.

"It took a lot of practice, and I doubt anyone else could do it, but yes," he replied.

Sarah shot a nervous glance to the shadows that lurked beyond her balcony doorframe, then focused on the clock behind her. "It's kind of late and I don't care for the idea of sleeping without a backdoor, so is there anything either of you can do?" When silence was her only answer, she swiveled back around.

The Twins were gone and nothing about the solid door in front of her suggested that, moments prior, it had been a puddle of miscellaneous components staining her living room carpet.

It was almost a relief to know that magic was bleeding back into her utterly mundane world, she thought as she stared bemusedly at the reconstructed wood. She had spent the past few years plagued by the choices she had made and living in a constant state of anxiety, never knowing if or when the axe would drop. Now that it had, she could breath a little easier and, as far as axes went, the Twins struck her as rather benign.

Emotionally drained and absolutely exhausted, she shuffled to her room for some sleep. With the first measure of peace that she had experienced in many years, Sarah settled into bed.

In a darkened corner of the room, something glinted a golden-silver. "The Twins are not so benign as they'd have you believe, Sarah sweet."

Her eyes snapped open as the eerie and amused voice washed over her.

* * *

A/N: Blech, is it the next chapter yet?

Side note: New poll is up in my profile about a series that I plan to do on the side, so please cast you votes!

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! I've never written a sequel before and I was worried that a lot of people wouldn't come back for it.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: Not mine.


	3. Heartache or Headache?

Chapter Three: Heartache or Headache?

Sarah's hand twitch nervously toward the bedside lamp, and her fingers had just curled around the stem of it when the ceiling light flared to life. It was like an intensely bright pulse of continuous lightning, vivid and blinding. By no means was it the light that normally came on; as a matter of fact she didn't even think that the voice was in the right part of the room to reach the switch.

Her mind was stalling, but at least she had enough dignity to admit that fact. Fingers still wrapped around the lamp, she stared at it dumbly for a while, giving her eyes time to adjust to the glaring light and her heart a few moments to settle back into a rhythm that was approaching normal.

"Cruel beauty," the voice mocked, "I don't even get a hello?"

Her breath hitched. "You're not real," she murmured, _hoping_ it was true rather than knowing. "I've fallen asleep and I'm having a very bad dream."

A weight settled on the mattress, close enough that she could feel the body heat being thrown off. "I beg to differ," he said quietly as a warm, leather covered finger hooked itself under her chin and gently forced her to turn around.

A shiver licked its way down her spine at the soft touch, but there was a silent steeliness to it that warned her she wouldn't be allowed to turn away. Unable, and perhaps even unwilling, to force herself out of his grasp, Sarah swiveled her eyes in random directions, delaying the moment for as long as she could. Even after all these years she still wasn't ready for this. Her resistance didn't last very long though, because she was just as curious as she was scared, and there was something about the man seated in front of her that had always commanded attention; her eyes finally focused where they had been directed to.

That single moment spun out for a small eternity.

It was definitely Jareth, but not as she remembered him. From the first time she had met him, Sarah had known that it wasn't likely she would ever be able to guess his age, but his physical maturity hadn't been that hard to relate by human standards; in her eyes he had possessed the strength and beauty of a man caught on the very brink of his early thirties. Such was not currently the case; _this_ Jareth was younger, more boyish, trapped on the brink of his twenties and looking as though he might be able to pass himself off for being even a few years younger than her. His golden hair flared around his face wildly, drawing attention to the uneven blue eyes that were always the same no matter what age he appeared to be.

A few more fingers flexed under her chin until his whole hand was caressing her jaw. Another shiver at his touch, but she continued her pursuit.

Sarah had seen, through their strange misadventures in the bowels of Castle Aryn, what Jareth had once looked like as a child. It was not particularly hard to imagine that boyish little imp growing up into the lean young man before her, but a few things about the child had not prepared her for the slightly older version.

The first outstanding surprise was the leather. From his head to his toes, the only thing on him that wasn't leather was his shirt and that was probably only because the billowy style that he favored was completely impractical in anything that wasn't linen or silk. It didn't really help much though, because he had a leather vest over the shirt; tight black material hugged the clean lines of his torso and didn't let go until it had nearly reached his hips. The vest was an absolute tease, inviting the eyes to run along its length, which eventually led the viewer down to his pants. Leather pants did wonders for Jareth; while not as blatantly revealing as the breeches that he had once worn, the slight ambiguity only added to his appeal, leading a girl to wonder about what was hinted at between those hard-looking thighs. The dark material flowed over his masculine hips, clung to his thighs, and flared out just a bit around his calves so that he could wear his wicked-looking boots under the lines of his pants rather than over them. Adding to his devilish ensemble was his leather gloves; in the past she had only ever seen his hands in silk or velvet and this was a surprising change. The leather that caressed her jaw was skintight and soft, but textured, unlike the fake leather that she was so accustomed to seeing people wear, and it made her positively itch to see if the rest of his bad boy get-up felt just as nice.

And that's what he looked like, really. A bad boy. Not like the kind she read about in romance novels, grown men who had tormented pasts and a slight aversion to the rules, but more like the sort of guy who was wicked because it was fun. The older version of Jareth had always possessed a devilish aura, but he had also had unmistakably quiet depths, an inner well of responsibility that had, no doubt, stemmed from his many years of ruling. This Jareth was devoid of those burdens of duty; the air around him was charged with his carefree attitude. Sitting in front of her, drenched in smoky black leather, one booted foot hooked under a thigh, his hand beginning to lower its journey to stroke up an down her throat while grinning like an incubus, he looked like the sort of boy who could get under a woman's skin, lean close to whisper wicked things into her ear, and turn a good girl just a little bit naughty.

The little boy she had briefly glimpsed had also been carefree and fun loving, and the man she had come to know had possessed the same magnetism and mischievous air, so in a way she supposed that this youth sitting before her was the logical interim between the two. But, good grief, that didn't prepare her for the reality of it at all!

His grin widened when her hand reflexively let go of the lamp and began to wander in his direction. She caught herself before even breaching half the distance that separated them. Sarah cleared her throat nervously, darting her eyes away for a second before making eye contact again. "Are you really Jareth?" she asked quietly.

The Twins had given her the impression that Jareth was in a state of mental ruin—and the chaotic emotions that she typically felt emanating from him had backed that idea up—but the vision of irresponsible male virility in front of her didn't seem in poor health in the least. As a matter of fact, he seemed like the type who would be more than willing to prove he was in prime physical condition, should she ask it of him; perhaps even if she didn't ask it of him. It was becoming all too apparent to Sarah that it was hard to gauge his thoughts based on his expression because, aside from amusement, he hadn't really gone through a range of emotions yet. True she could reference what she had seen of the older Jareth, but she had no doubt that the subtleties would be different enough to keep her guessing.

His fingers wandered lower, ghosting over the silky skin where her neck and shoulder met, then turned slightly to trace delicate circles over the base of her throat. "Yes and no."

When he didn't elaborate, Sarah had to fight down the urge to pinch him. Less than a minute ago she had been terrified by his presence—and, if she were honest, it made her more than a little nervous to have him focused on her neck—but that was quickly being replaced by annoyance. "Meaning?" she snapped, hand coming up to push him away.

Clever fingers curled around her wrist and forced the offending hand behind her back, bringing her uncomfortably close to Jareth's chest and lap, his strange tracing on her skin not missing a single rhythmic stroke. "The Underground is like a poison to mortals, Sarah. The more time you spend there, the more magic you absorb, and the more magic you absorb, the more you need it to survive."

Words echoed back to her from the past, _"You cannot return Above, Sarah. You've absorbed too much magic. It would just result in a slow and painful death for you."_

"He didn't have any choice other than to let you go, though; you backed him into a corner, so he gave you this," his leather encased fingers ran down the open neckline of her nightshirt to tap against the amulet that rested between the swells of her breasts. "Rather than allowing you to suffer the consequences of your decision," the boy continued after an uncomfortably long moment where they were both fixated by how close his hand was to her cleavage, "he put his own magic within the medallion so that your life could be sustained outside of the Underground, and made sure that you would never be able to take it off."

"Alright, that makes sense, but it's been five years," Sarah said, forcing down a shiver when his roaming hand began to retrace its path up her neckline, "so why is this the first time I've seen you?"

"Because it was Imm and Laim who gave me shape," he purred. "Up until this point I've just been a random collection of Jareth's energy. The memories were all there, even some of the motivations, but not the form."

Which meant that the man in front of her was Jareth as the Twins had known him; somewhere between learning to control his own magic and taking over the monarchy, still a prince. And, from where she was sitting—or perhaps being groped, she amended—Prince Jareth struck her as the type who was more inclined to take where King Jareth may have extended patience. "I am going to kill the Twins," she moaned to herself.

* * *

_Self-awareness was a strange thing; in a way, he knew that he had always been within the amulet, but had not actually experienced any of it until a few minutes ago. The strangest part was that he had memories of the past five years around Sarah's neck, even though he hadn't been aware of anything when it had happened. Slightly less confusing was the tangle of Jareth's memories; in essence, he _was_ Jareth, so adapting to those felt as easy as putting on a new shirt. _

_The only flaw in the design, as it were, was the fact that the Twins had designed him as they best remembered Jareth so, while he remembered everything after that point and up to the present, he wasn't similarly motivated as a more current Jareth would be. He didn't feel the crushing weight of responsibility or the isolation that had stemmed from ruling the Underground; when he looked at Sarah he felt the desire to possess but not the desperate urgency that had laced Jareth's actions a few years ago. It was as though Imm and Laim had displaced him in time, but given him complete knowledge of all events leading to the present._

"_Don't judge them too harshly," he finally replied, "they are more used to making the messes rather than cleaning them up."_

_Sarah huffed, bringing his attention back to the lovely breasts that his hand was so close to. "How is _this_ helping?" she asked, jerking the arm that he still had pinned behind her back._

"_Your guess is as good as mine," Jareth murmured. "The Twins are quite adept at keeping their own counsel. You could ask them, when next they return, but I doubt you'd get a straight answer." When she didn't offer an immediate reply, he took the moment to study her._

_Many women who were initially appealing to the eye were often found somewhat lacking when under the harshest of lights, but such was not the case for Sarah. Even sitting down, he could tell that she was lithe and curvy, trim but fleshy in the areas that men would find the most appealing. Generous breasts rose and fell under her nightshirt, no hint of support or enhancement, and Jareth knew there was no way he was going to be able to keep his hands off this woman. Her skin was pale, almost unhealthily so, but livened up by a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and the slight pink of a blush. Inky tendrils of dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back; it looked silky and well cared for, the sort of hair that made him burn to take his gloves off and bury his fingers in. What made him burn even more, though, was her pixie-like face; it was round and girlish where many other women were gaunt, perhaps even pinched. Her lips were soft and full, seductive even without a hint of makeup. What really pulled the picture together though, for him at least, were her eyes. They were wide and clear, the brightest shade of emerald he had ever seen, and displayed her emotions more clearly than anything else every could._

_There was a hint of interest in that green gaze, but more than that there was fear and uncertainty, even a little annoyance as well. Sarah was a roiling mess of emotions, caught somewhere between being wary of the present and fearing the past. She didn't know why he was there or what he wanted. Frankly, he didn't know why he was there either, but it couldn't have been clearer to him what he wanted. _

_A tattoo peaked out from under the sleeve of the arm that he had pinned behind her back—a delicate circlet of silver, green, and gold, decorated by the occasional red or black daisy, boasting a skillfully designed J, and looking very much like the twin of the one he had around his ankle—and it reminded him that, in some sense, this one was already his. She had been wooed in a strange and irregular fashion in the past, lulled until she had almost accepted, and then wounded when it hurt the most. Like a wild horse, the failed attempt had left her wary and skittish, but not beyond hope. The Jareth that she had dealt with had suffered first from being overly cautious and then, conversely, overly demanding, had been so concerned with trapping her that he hadn't actually taken the time to properly romance the poor girl. _

_He would make no such mistakes. Until the Twins told him otherwise—and even then it was likely to be negotiable—he had no direct reason for being there, which meant he could focus on whatever he wanted. And what he wanted was Sarah. There would be no interruptions in this dance; there were no distractions to take him away and few people for her to hide behind. She was a soft woman who led a boring life and he was her antithesis, a wild man who was a little raw on the edges; he had a feeling that she was more than ready for a little rough seduction._

"_Jareth?" she questioned after his protracted silence._

_He could have reassured her, he could have let her go, but he had never denied himself anything in the past, so why start now?_

_With one hand already behind her back and the other just skirting the healthy swell of her ass, he pulled her into his lap. She settled over him like a dream, her soft curves effortlessly molding into his hard plains and it made him burn for much more than he knew he would be able to freely take at the moment. Sarah's free hand came up to steady the sudden movement, clutching at his shoulder while her reflexive little kick easily allowed him to situate her legs on either side of his hips. _

_She was the very picture of a woman astride her lover, ignoring the fact that they were both miserably clothed and he still held one of her arms immobile. Then again, he mused, it all depended on how a woman liked her bedplay. _

_Without giving her a chance voice her displeasure, Jareth lowered his head to her lips. The first taste of her was pure heaven._

* * *

Sarah was now panicked.

She had been startled when his hand had brush so close to her rear, and a little shocked when he had used that leverage to pull her into his lap. Cradled in the triangle formed by his one leg being hooked under the other, she had had a moment of blind stupidity where her legs had kicked out to either side of his hips and her left hand had gone to wrap itself in the silky material of his shirt. Not to stop him, she thought with a disparaging snort, but to help the devilish man; without even stopping to consult her brain, her body had decided that it liked this vision of a bad boy.

Her thoughts had kicked back in at that point, though, and the fear had settled in. Despite his altered appearance and slightly different attitude, this was still Jareth, a man who turned her inside out without even trying. A man who had nearly destroyed her world on more than one occasion. If she let him back into her life she would only be inviting more disaster, more pain.

The panic had flared to life once she had seen the intent in his icy blue eyes, the telltale lowering of his head. He made her feel as no one else ever had, or likely ever would, and Sarah knew firsthand how devastating his kisses could be. For every gentle stroke against her, just a little bit more of her resistance would be stripped away until she was an absolute fool for the man again, blindly ignoring everything about him that should never be forgotten.

But, at the first gentle stroke of his lips against her own, Sarah knew she had already lost. She had never really _stopped_ being a fool for this man, had only tried to make herself forget it.

Jareth's kiss was smooth an electric, alternating between light and silken glides over her sensitive skin and demanding little nips to her bottom lip. Her blood pounded in her ears as she was swamped by a feeling that she hadn't experienced in five years: pleasure doubled by the sense of something wild and untamed moving within her, desperate to break out. It was a feeling that she had tried very hard to forget, but now that it was flooding through her system, she knew how badly she had truly been craving it.

Soft, velvety leather caressed the skin of her legs, tickled the portion of her thighs that weren't covered by the shorts she slept in, and drew a whimper out of her. The feel of the glove that wrapped around her wrist or the one that had stroked over her throat and neckline didn't even begin to compare to the raw ache that those pants teased into her.

Sarah's hand released its grip on his shirt and slowly slid to delve into his hair. If she was already damned, she reasoned hazily, she might as well enjoy it. Her nails raked lightly over his scalp as she interrupted his rhythm to worry his lower lip between her teeth. He growled low in his throat, a heady sound that rippled through her, and pulled away.

A wicked grin lit Jareth's face as he took in her flush. He stretched then, leisurely flexing muscles that she was pressed tight to. "I get the feeling that you and I are going to have a lot of fun together, little Sarah," he purred.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was brought to you ahead of schedule by Sherrilyn Kenyon and the fact that I currently can't beat one of the bosses on Super Paper Mario. Seriously, there is no accounting for what will make me write.

On a side note, I'm absolutely thrilled with the results my current poll has turned up. At the moment, _Never Nose Through The Goblin King's Closet_ is in the lead with _Never Poke A Rockstar_ in a close second. So, if you haven't already, please cast your votes before I start writing.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: Though I create new splices of Jareth with startling frequency, I don't own any of them. Nor Sarah.


	4. Universal Truths

Chapter Four: Universal Truths.

_The Twins, in their own opinions, were not given nearly the credit they were due. As the resident troublemakers of Castle Aryn, they were blamed for all manners of strange problems, perhaps even thought of as crafty, but no one had ever accused the Twins of cunning. _

_And they really should have._

_From a young age the Twins had watched Jareth, memorized his techniques, spent hours trying to replicate his tricks and, while his ruses weren't really their style, it did occasionally come in handy to know. Right now, for instance, they were bound by Jareth's word, as laid out through the contract; the average Underground dweller would give something like that up for a lost cause and simply play by his rules. But Imm and Laim knew better; the wording was careful and concise, but there was just enough leeway, just enough give, to play it to their advantage. _

_After centuries of careful observation, it was finally time to play one of Jareth's games. Step number one was to map out a plan—check. Step number two was to get your players in position—double check. Step number three, the most glorious of all steps in their brother's eyes, was to create the conflict—half a check. Sarah had herself a playmate now, one who was as relentless as a dog with a bone, but the goal wasn't to get her in bed with Jareth, it was to get her back Underground. The other half of the check would be soon in coming though, a little incentive for Prince Jareth to play things close to the vest and herd Sarah as close as possible. _

_Tomorrow would be an interesting day for them._

* * *

Sarah tiptoed from her bedroom to the bathroom, careful not to disturb the mass of arrogant male that was sprawled across her sofa, asleep. Once the bathroom door was firmly shut and locked—not that it was likely to do her any good if he really wanted to get in—she allowed the smile to bloom over her lips, the first purely carefree gesture that she had made in years.

Prince Jareth, drenched in leather and looking like the poster boy for some kind of kinky D/s club, had been forced to sleep on her couch—her chipper, _painfully fuchsia_ couch. And what's more, she thought while the grin spread, he'd been utter bewildered by it. Prince Jareth obviously wasn't used to women suddenly coming to their senses after he started kissing them but, after her previous experience with the Goblin King, she figured he'd get used to it sooner or later, because Sarah had it down to an art. She was a mess at avoiding compromising situations, but she had full marks for being able to walk away on almost every occasion.

With the mechanical and easy gestures that signified a routine, Sarah turned her shower on, waited for the perfect temperature, then quickly stripped and dove in. Steam billowed around her as the hot water began to pound at her tense muscles, relieving some of the stress that had accumulated after a restless night.

It hadn't been easy to extricate herself from Jareth's grasp, and it had been infinitely harder to get him out of her room. Confused was too light a term to describe what he had exhibited last night; like a car stuck in second, he'd sat at the edge of her bed, unable to switch gears. He'd watched her as she quickly ushered him out the door, a startled and completely horrified look in his eyes right up to when she shut and locked the door in his face. No words were exchanged; she felt more embarrassed by participating in the kiss than stopping it and, honestly, what could she have said? _Sorry, after five years of abstinence I'm more horny than I am cautious?_ She had a feeling that wouldn't go over very well.

To Jareth's credit, though, he hadn't tried to reason with her or force his way back into the room. But, having him so close at hand, hearing him move about in the room just beyond her door, and knowing that he would likely still be there when she woke up had led to a night that had been very thin on actual sleep.

Sarah shook her head, amazed at how she had gone from terrified to bemused in less than twelve hours. What was it about Jareth that could both relax her _and_ put her on guard? She already knew half the answer, though, and it really wasn't about her otherworldly guest. After five years she was simply exhausted of regretting, weary of being scared, and those emotions had bled out of her after being confronted by the Twins. If this was her time to make amends then she would gladly do so, because she was tired of living like a ghost at the age of twenty-four. Yes, Jareth still panicked her a bit and she was nervous of whatever the Twins had planned, but she was determined not to let her life be ruled by anguish anymore.

And, with that simple sentiment, it was like a massive black weight had been lifted from her shoulders; the regrets were still there, they always would be, but it was pointless to focus on something that she could do little about, especially when she had to have her wits about her in order to deal with the very real challenge of a new facet of Jareth. The extended period of grief was over; it was now time to deal with whatever life decided to throw at her.

* * *

_Oran felt the change more acutely than he knew he should have, a testament to how deeply he was entangled in what was left of his son. Something about his fading child suddenly felt… expectant, hopeful, and beneath that was the faint warmth of Sarah's relief. Oran pulled back, returning to his own senses, not yet sure whether to be cautiously hopeful or guardedly worried._

_For months beyond counting he had tried to re-piece his son, to delve within the inner-self of Jareth and re-connect what was left of him. Many pieces were missing, imbued into people or objects that were not readily available, but enough had been left within the boy to give a father foolish hope. But, hour after hour, day after day, no matter how many slices Oran found and put together, they never mended. It was beyond an exercise in futility, it was downright pointless, but it had given his wretchedly idle bones a sense of purpose._

_It had been a shock, at first, to realize that through Jareth he could feel Sarah and, after a while, the crushing weight of her anguish had been as painful to bear as the utter apathy and failure that had emanated from his son, but he had endured it, taken the feelings for his own, as any father would. They were both dying, his son and the woman who had so briefly been his daughter and, as his helplessness began to reach epic proportions, Oran was beginning to reach the point where he was willing to violate any contract or law that stood between him and his lost children. Fleetingly he wondered if this had been the feeling that had driven Jareth over the brink, if this overwhelming urgency had spawned the Labyrinth, then the Underground, inexorably leading him into his downward spiral._

_But something had breathed a little life back into them. It wasn't much, likely more profound on Sarah's end than Jareth's, but it was enough to give an old man some hope._

_And suspicion._

* * *

'Kitten paws' was the phrase of the morning, Sarah decided as she made her way into the kitchen as silently as possible. She wasn't sure if her quiet was out of courtesy to the sleeping Jareth, or if it was out cowardice. She was ready to live again, true, but she wasn't about to fool herself; she needed a little more time before coming face to face with the hormonally charged youth. There were thoughts to school, questions to come up with, and a job that she was going to be late to if her coffee machine didn't hurry up.

A rustle from the living room froze her methodical buttering of toast but, even straining her ears, she heard no further noise. 'He must have rolled over,' she thought, taking a bite out of her meager breakfast while carefully peeking her head around the kitchen door.

Jareth had fallen asleep fully clothed, which she found rather surprising since she had half expected to find him in nothing but pants or less; he seemed the type who would tease in such a calculated manner, knowing that she would see him unclothed like that as soon as she left her room. But he hadn't; as a matter of fact the only items he had taken off were his boots and the leather vest. Stranger still were the leather clad hands that curled around one of her decorative pillows; figured, she thought in amusement, that the man even _slept_ with his gloves on. What was it with him and those stupid things, anyway? The only time she could clearly remember having seen his bare hands was when he had cast a human glamour while pretending to be her boyfriend.

Sarah eased forward a little, leaning against the doorframe as she nibbled at her toast and observed the creature that had invaded her home. His face was boyish in sleep, and appeared infinitely less predatory with his hawkish eyes closed. Déjà vu swept over her, reminding her that she had seen this unguarded side of him before. Jareth asleep was truly a sight to behold because it proved so many people wrong: the wicked were _never_ innocent, not even in sleep. The essence of the man poured from every stretched or relaxed muscle and, boyish though his face was, innocence could not be found where it did not exist. Awake or asleep, Jareth was still Jareth.

Sarah shook her head as she finished her last slice of toast, trying hard to corral her wandering thoughts. Right now, she had to get her coffee and go or she was going to be late for work.

* * *

_Jareth stretched as soon as he heard Sarah lock the deadbolt and lazily opened his eyes. He'd been awake ever since the bathroom door had opened to let out a flood of dense, humid air into the rest of the tiny apartment, and he had a killer knot forming between his shoulders from spending most of the night trying to stay on the woman's annoyingly narrow sofa. It was bad enough that he'd been subjected to sleeping on someone's couch, he refused to suffer the indignity of falling off the damn thing as well, and by morning he had been more than ready to call a truce with the evil furniture and never sit on the thing again. But he had given her the time and space she needed for the morning, knowing it was likely the last time he would ever do so. She was shocked and needed a little time to get her thoughts in order, he had decided sometime over the night. _

_It wasn't a conclusion that had come easily. Hell, _he_ was shocked! One minute he'd had his lap full of delicious woman, and then the next minute he'd been staring at a closed door, listening to the tiny tumblers trip in order to lock him out. Not that it really could have stopped him—a locked door was only a detriment if he died laughing at its utter uselessness—but he'd had to concede that, after five years, maybe a heavy make out session was not exactly on the top of Sarah's list of things to do. Shame, really._

_Jareth rose, padding on bare feet to where the alluring aroma of coffee was drifting from. The kitchen was small but serviceable—like everything else about Sarah's apartment, he noted with mild distaste; it wasn't so much a home as it was simply a place to live—but sitting on the counter, like a sinful beacon in a room of endless white, was his cherished elixir. Either Sarah had seriously miscalculated how much she could take with her, or she had made extra for him. Such a charming thought, really. And telling, too; you didn't feed a stray unless you intended to keep it. But he was no stray and he intended to stay whether she wanted him to or not. Besides, she quite literally couldn't live without him. _

_After a couple of deep pulls from the blissful coffee, Jareth darted a look to the closest clock, then struggled for a moment to make sense of it in his own terms. Time had a way of becoming largely immaterial when one aged as slowly as his kind, the hours and days bled into each other until one was indistinguishable from the other; after all, what did one hour matter to a man who would see billions within his lifetime? The older-Jareth had become obsessed with the subtle increments of time, had learned to distort them for his own purposes, but that was something that was currently beyond his scope to understand; time meant nothing to him. But Sarah, adorable _important_ Sarah, was a slave to it, and too much time away from his presence would hurt her in ways she wouldn't even begin to understand._

_She had had around eight hours now to order her thoughts, whether she had slept through some of those hours was none of his concern, and she had been away from him for about twenty minutes, which meant he had enough time to shower, get dressed, and finish off the coffee before she _really_ started to feel the effects of his absence. _

_The Twins were not so vapid as they typically let people believe, Jareth knew. Had they given him form knowing, _counting_ on the fact that most of the amulet's power would reside within him? Had they knowingly created a situation were Sarah's wellbeing depended upon his vigilance? _

_Perhaps, he mused as he let Sarah's shower work out the vicious knot between his shoulders, he had taught the Twins too much._

* * *

Sarah set out the daily newspapers as quickly as possible, knowing that she had a growing backlog of newly acquired books that still needed to be entered into the system, not to mention the strange and relentless questions she would be obliged to answer as the gloomy Monday pushed forth every high school student for a five mile radius who had to do a summer report. She loved the library dearly and, deep down, she really was a personable woman, but summer was to libraries what the holiday season was to malls. Orchestrated chaos, and mad rushes punctuated by boring lulls. The upside was that it kept her from thinking about Jareth.

Unfortunately, that was also the downside. She needed to figure out what he was here for and what she was going to do with him. The Twins could answer one question, though it remained to be seen as to whether they actually _would_; the other question was her own personal enigma, but she got the feeling he wasn't going to keep sleeping on her couch like a good boy. Hell, she knew firsthand how uncomfortable sleeping on that sofa could be and, remembering the horrible ache that had settled between her shoulder blades because of it, thought it would be rather inhumane to even suggest it. _Why_ hadn't she rented the apartment with the extra guestroom? Of course, when she'd been looking at apartments, 'housing a youthful embodiment of an ethereal king' hadn't exactly been taken into consideration.

Sarah shook the thoughts from her head, focusing on shelving returned items. And that was when the trouble started. Up on a ladder, trying to reach the top shelf, the world suddenly began to lose focus. An unnatural lethargy swept over her, as though her bones had been hollowed out and it left her feeling faint, craving something she couldn't put a name to. Had she not eaten enough for breakfast, she wondered dazedly.

Being a public servant, Sarah knew two things to be universally true, the first being that she would never be paid enough for the job she performed. The second was that people had an unerring ability to corner you when you felt bad and were in a precarious situation. Her bank statement testified to the first axiom, the lanky looking teenager heading in her direction testified to the second.

He drew even with her in the blink of an eye, managing to invade her personal space and make her somewhat glad for the ladder's added height before she could even think about getting down. The boy had brown hair, brown eyes, a clean face, and a decent build; for a teenager, he looked rather nice, but he had that glimmer in his eye that she had come to loathe. It was the look of a man who cherished embarrassing others and he was more than ready to make her the butt of his little joke. "Excuse me, where are the books on sexual reproduction?" he asked in a tone that would have sounded sincere if it hadn't been at complete odds with his expression.

Sarah tsked disapprovingly on the inside, but pasted on her best Oblivious Librarian Smile, ready to be as uncooperatively cooperative as possible. She opened her mouth to reply, but her head swam for a moment, and then strong arms were wrapping around her waist from behind, lifting her off the ladder and gently setting her on the ground. "Find yourself a girlfriend," her 'savior' stated bluntly from over her shoulder, "it'll make studying much easier."

"You just encouraged that kid to go knock some poor girl up!" she accused the man behind her, but watched in detached amusement as the boy turned tail like a whipped puppy and slunk away, delaying the moment when she would have to turn around. Her head was no longer dizzy, the lethargy had evaporated, and she knew all too well who was behind her.

"No, I encouraged him to run his own laboratory tests," he countered then, sensing her hesitation, turned her around.

Jareth's wet hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, but the drying fringe was escaping into wild tufts that billowed around his face. The man smelled like coffee, apples, and leather, she decided, which was weird because he wasn't wearing any. Leather, that was. A dark shirt pulled taut over his chest and shoulders, dark pants hugged the strong lines of his legs, and she couldn't see them but she had no doubt that his shoes were dark too. And he still had his arms around her, the librarian in a plain blouse and skirt who was clutching a book to her chest. They probably looked like something out of a cheesy romantic comedy movie.

It was then, while she was trying to convince herself to stop basking in the scent of the man, that Sarah was shown a previously undiscovered universal truth. Co-workers had the unerring ability to catch you in compromising positions.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, everyone. Summer and I don't mix, since it only ever seems to bring sunburn, mosquito bites, and writers' block… or perhaps not block so much as simply apathy for actually writing. Anyway, I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner, though I am already working on the first installment of my upcoming side-project.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah are not mine. I am also not a librarian (though I am a rabid patron) so I apologize if I get things wrong.


	5. Kinks

Chapter Five: Kinks.

Clarence Welchek was a hard worker who spent most of her time in the bowels of the library making sure that their archiving system was accurate and that all their files were in order. She was sensitive to small details, always careful with her work, and performed her job with an ease that made her invaluable. For all her care and brilliant organization, though, she had one major character flaw: Clarence Welchek was a voracious gossip. She was never malicious about the rumors she heard or passed on, and most of her co-workers assumed that she had developed the habit because of how far she was removed from the rest of the staff during daily work, but the fact remained that the woman could be a downright nuisance when she wasn't hidden between her immaculate filing cabinets.

As Sarah stared at the elegant, matronly redhead that had her eyes glued to Jareth in a dumbstruck expression, she pictured all the horror stories that would likely spread throughout the entire library infrastructure before lunch was out. Sarah Williams did not date—it was a widely known fact among the librarians and archivists—she didn't date, she didn't flirt, and she wasn't married; as far as they were concerned, she was the obligatory asexual bookworm that every library hired, the frigid schoolmarm who had been burned enough that she was too scared to try anymore. Clarence was about to change that, as soon as she regained control of herself, and there would be no stopping the rumors that rushed out of this one. _Any_ second now, she thought with dread…

"Sweetheart," Clarence beamed with a smile, "it's about time you found yourself a gentleman friend. Who is this fine young man of yours?"

Gentleman friend? Fine young man? Were they even looking at the same person, Sarah thought in bewilderment. Jareth was drenched from head to foot in dark colors and, while the clothing style was modern, they molded around him in just such a way to suggest that they were tailored to him. With his pale skin and hair, coupled with the devilish look around his eyes, he looked more like a renegade actor than a gentleman. Fine young man was a misnomer as well, unless she had meant fine in the context of his physique. Granted, he was no longer wearing the aggressive-male leather ensemble, but he looked no more wholesome out of it than he had in it; after all, it was the man that commanded the presence, not the clothes.

"Don't misunderstand, Clarence; Jareth and I are not seeing each other," Sarah hastened to explain, digging an elbow into his side in an effort to both cut off an argument and to get away from him.

But Jareth was unmoved by her abuse to his ribs, he simply pulled her closer to him, gave the older woman his best bad boy smile and said, "You'd think that after nearly ten years she wouldn't be so shy anymore."

"_Ten years?_ Goodness," Clarence twittered, then turned a shaking finger on Sarah, "and no one had the slightest clue, you naughty girl!"

"Ten years?" Sarah asked in a dark voice once her misled co-worker hustled back to her own job, apparently having forgotten whatever it was she had needed in the stacks after having been presented with such juicy gossip.

Jareth plucked the book from her clenching fingers and carelessly placed it on the shelf behind them—which really galled her because he managed to put it in the correct place without even looking—and shrugged as he gently unclenched her hands. "It was when you ran the Labyrinth," he explained. "Technically, I've been seeing you your whole life, but there was no point in getting complicated with it."

"Do you realize what you've just done?" she asked heatedly, trying to ignore the careful, nearly tender way he was uncurling her firsts and lacing their fingers together. "Clarence is probably tripping all over herself to get to the backroom where she'll promptly inform _everyone_ that innocent little Sarah isn't as innocent as she seems."

"You _aren't_ as innocent as you seem," he replied, something unreadable flashing through his crystalline eyes.

"We _never_ had sex," Sarah hissed quietly, leveling her best glare at him.

A smile quirked at his lips as he brought their linked hands behind her back, using the leverage to press her tightly to his chest. "Not for lack of trying, love," he whispered ruthlessly against her ear, "we were just always interrupted. Or is that something that something you've conveniently chosen to forget?"

Jareth's voice, coupled with the ghostly brushes of his lips against the sensitive skin of her ear, had shivers practically convulsing down her spine. His scent enveloped her, distracting her with the spicy maleness that she had refused to remember over the past few years. More enticing that that, however, was the lighter fragrance that somehow wove itself around him; funny, really, because she automatically associated Jareth with peaches, but he had always smelled faintly of apples. Come to think of it, apples had featured rather prominently in the cuisine at Castle Aryn, and she had read something once about apples being in the numerous myths about the Others, so perhaps it was simply part of who he was. She didn't know, she didn't particularly care; the scent was pervasive and downright enchanting.

He was talking about their sex life, or lack thereof, and she couldn't escape the fact that he was right. They had almost known each other in the biblical sense on more than one occasion and the only thing that had stopped them had been the countless interruptions by others—from Toby to Oran and nearly everyone in between. As a matter of fact, out of all the times they had found themselves in sexual situations she had only managed to say no to him on three occasions: the first had been when they had been trying to reach a compromise on the contract after Jareth had decided to pose as her boyfriend, and had been trying to use a lustful stupor to his advantage during negotiations; the second time had been during the heinous run through the labyrinth of his heart, at the end of the their relations five years ago, and she had been damn close to giving in after he had started to command the magic within her into some kind of wicked aphrodisiac; the third time had been last night, and Sarah was beginning to realize that it wasn't so much her strong will that had let her pull it off as it had simply been shock. Really, when she thought about it, shock had been the key factor in all three situations; she was, by no means, immune to the man and had only resisted jumping his bones by the skin of her teeth.

Sarah shifted uncomfortably within his grasp, suddenly aware that, just as her thoughts had drifted southward, so too had her pulse. She was hyperaware of the hard male body plastered against her, and only too humanly curious about what she had missed out on during their previous time together.

"She's going to tell everyone that we're dating! Hell, ten years is tantamount to engagement!" she carefully ignored the bait Jareth had set out, hoping to diffuse the sudden sexual tension because she knew it was too much too soon. Less than twenty-four hours ago she had been grieving over what she had done to the man, she couldn't turn around and jump right into bed with a part of him, not before she had any idea of what was going on.

He pulled back and flashed her one of those mocking smiles that said he knew she was avoiding the real subject. "I certainly hope so," he replied. "Boyfriend or fiancé sounds much better than stalking admirer."

"You are not staying," she began.

But he cut her off with a smooth, "I beg to differ."

And, as luck would have it, just as she had been about to launch into an argument, a curious fellow librarian had poked her head around the shelves, reminding Sarah that they were conducting their verbal tango in an all too public place, in an all too intimate position.

* * *

_Imm quietly snickered while Laim chocked on a chuckle. Valiantly they tried to shush each other, but eye contact only made the laughter harder to control. Sarah was stiffly seated at the front desk, surrounded by a small circle of curious co-workers and their brother, who, typical to Jareth fashion, was playing up the situation for all it was worth. Jareth looked like he had died and gone to heaven while Sarah looked like she was barely restraining the urge to strangle him. _

_It was times like this that the Twins both conceded they probably should have been paying more attention to Jareth when he had been teaching them about viewing crystals, for neither one of them had ever mastered the skill. Being seen right now would definitely raise suspicions. Still, there was a certain amount of satisfaction that came with being able to view their work in person, and disguises worked just fine for such a purpose. Besides, their presence wasn't entirely for pleasure, anyway. The Twins had a plan and a schedule to keep; if things went their way, Sarah would be back Underground before the month was out. It was a tricky game though; they had to dance around both Sarah _and_ Jareth, while still pulling the strings. The teenage boy that they had sent over to attract Jareth's attention had just been the beginning; the gossip-woman had been an added benefit. Their brother would play the part of the watchful, exasperating boyfriend, if for no other reason than to annoy Sarah, but Imm and Laim would make sure that it stopped being a game for him in no time at all. In short order he'd become wary, then angry, and an angry Jareth tended to react with all the fierce possessiveness of a wild animal._

_And, in the end, that was exactly what they wanted._

* * *

"I can't believe you," Sarah fumed as she stomped into her apartment that night, Jareth close at her heels. "You can't just expect to pick things up where we left off, but no, you waltz in and it's suddenly like five years never passed! We're right back where we started: you've got your own agenda and I don't trust you. But I've got news for you, Jareth: five years _have_ passed, I've got a massive guilt complex on top of my distrust, and you trying to get into my pants isn't going to help matters."

"Perhaps not," Jareth agreed, leaning against the back of her sofa as she paced between the living room and the kitchen, "but you have to agree that it would make things infinitely more interesting."

She gave an exasperated shake of her head. "Now everyone at the library thinks I've got some kind of bad boy kink-"

"You _do_ have a bad boy kink," he interrupted her calmly, "otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation."

* * *

_Jareth leaned gingerly against the devil-sofa, ready to take evasive action should the upholstery of evil suddenly develop a will of its own from the pent-up magical energy that filled the tiny apartment. The more agitated Sarah became the more magic seemed to simply roll off her. Then again, he would bet that the last time she had ever made use of her magic had been retrieving the Orb of Command from the stone imp in Castle Aryn, which, like everything else, had been five years ago. Five years of ignoring her own power while, steadily but surely, the locks and barriers that had kept it hidden were breaking away. Everyday she would have just a little bit more magic at her fingertips and she wasn't using any of it. At the rate she was going, he was surprised that her refrigerator hadn't decided it wanted to be a wardrobe or that her books weren't trying to fly away like birds._

"_I do not," Sarah argued defensively, bringing his thoughts back to the conversation at hand._

_He snorted. "I could put the leather back on, you know." Jareth stood and slowly stalked Sarah until he had her cornered against a wall. He didn't lean into her, didn't trap her with his body, left—for all intents and purposes—what could have been considered a mildly respectable distance between them. "Would your pulse race, Sarah? Would your knees wobble and your mouth go dry?" He stepped a little closer. "It excites you, doesn't it? Some primitive part of you is absolutely in love with the image of danger and adventure." They were almost toe-to-toe now. "Or perhaps," he murmured, leaning closer while his fingers trailed softly over her jaw, "the truth is that it isn't the leather you love, so much as it's the man wearing it. You only have a bad boy kink because it's part of a larger fixation; you only like the bad boy because _I'm_ a bad boy and, let's face it darling, you definitely have a Jareth kink."_

_And with that said, he stepped away from her, moving toward the kitchen._

* * *

Sarah watched him until he was out of sight. She stood dumbly against the wall, not sure if she was angry at Jareth for what he had said or for the fact that she had wanted him to kiss her and he hadn't. That wanting, in itself, was proof that what he had said was true; her life would a lot less complicated it she didn't have a Jareth kink, and she fought it tooth and nail but the fact of the matter was that it was always there no matter what she did.

Now certainly wasn't the time to reflect on that matter, though. Jareth was, once again, ruthlessly destroying the careful structure of her life and, while she could admit that she often looked forward to their verbal sparring, she had to save something of her life, if only for the simple preservation of her sanity. A man like him could drive a woman insane in more ways than one, and they had a lot of problems to work out, both past and present.

A clanking sound from the kitchen drew Sarah's attention, and she left the support of her wall to see what exactly her uninvited guest was doing. "I can cook, you know," she said after watching him putter around her tiny kitchen for a few minutes. Though Jareth had cooked for her in the past, this was a younger version who had probably been waited on his entire life, and that thought made her a little edgy.

He hummed noncommittally while turning knobs and pressing buttons in no apparent order for no apparent reason. "You'll have to forgive a man for being a tad leery," Jareth finally replied after a few seconds, "but I _did_ hear the Twins call you The Destroyer of Stoves."

"How?" she asked confusedly. "You weren't even there!"

He set something to boil on the stovetop and, without even turning around, expertly tapped an elegant finger against the amulet that was hidden under her blouse. "You forget, dear," he tapped again, "that, in a sense, I've always been there."

"That's something we need to talk about, by the way," she grumped, trying to ignore how her heart wanted to flutter when his hand was so close to making intimate gestures, "you always being there. You can't come to work with me."

Something bready had magically found its way into the oven, because he was opening the small door as he replied, "Again, I beg to differ."

"You're only going to cause trouble for me," Sarah groaned in frustration.

He chuckled. "I know; that's the perk of being a boyfriend."

"We _aren't_ dating," she half shouted.

"You seem to be the only person of that opinion," Jareth replied carelessly. "If might truly makes right, then sheer popular vote alone makes you dead wrong, dearest."

She let out a frustrated little shout. "God, I knew you were going to drive me insane!"

"Besides," he carried on as though she hadn't spoken, "you don't exactly have a choice in this. The Twins gave me most of the amulet's power, so if you expect to keep breathing in the future, I sort of have to be around."

"You know, _amazingly_," she snapped, "I don't believe you."

He actually looked at her then, a long considering stare that looked just a touch angry. But, when he replied, his tone was as careless as usual. "Believe what you will, but sooner or later the truth will slap you in the face."

* * *

A/N: I've been on a reading kick lately, rabidly devouring any Linda Howard, Lora Leigh, or Shelley Laurenston book I can get my hands on. (Mostly Linda Howard, since she's the only one of those three authors that my library actually seems to have; I highly recommend her books, by the way, she has a wry sense of humor and a very clean style of narration.) I got lost between the pages of my innumerable library checkouts, so I apologize for not getting an update to you guys sooner.

On a more technical note, I've had a couple of people complain about my use of italics. I apologize if it bothers you but, for the sake of continuity, I simply can't stop doing it this far into the story. If you find it distracting to the point that you can no longer enjoy the story, then you can go to my deviantart page (where I am also know as Ergott) where my stories are posted with absolutely no italics because I am apparently challenged when it comes to html formatting. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: I own the miscellany of this story. Everything else pretty much belongs to Henson.


	6. Playing With Fire

Chapter Six: Playing With Fire.

_His name didn't matter._

_Imm and Laim had found the perfect candidate for the next step in their plan. He was a young mortal that was acquainted with Sarah, had made several unsuccessful overtures in the past, but had never given up trying. The simple fact that he continually tried to entice Sarah was a saving grace because it meant that the Twins' control would not seem particularly out of the ordinary. _

_His name was Leo Knight and unfortunately, in the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter one bit. _

* * *

Dinner was _awkward_, at best.

That's not to say that the food wasn't delicious, because it was. Jareth had made a simple curry and rice dish that he served with roasted vegetables and fresh bread. Each bite was more delectable than the last, and it made her wonder where he had learned to cook. Sarah had known that he possessed the skill, having had one of his dinners in the past, but had never really wondered about the peculiarity of that ability. As a prince he would have been waited on hand and foot, and as a king he wouldn't have had the time to prepare his own meals, not to mention that it would have seemed downright indecent to his servants. But it was something that he seemed to enjoy, the subtle blend of magic and physical labor, the simple mixing of elements to create a balanced product at the end. If he hadn't been born destined to take over a throne, she could easily picture him frittering away his hours in a heated kitchen, ruling over his culinary domain with the same iron fist with which he ruled over his kingdom.

The awkward part was sitting down at her tiny table and trying to have a civil meal without the past intruding. As always, Jareth was an interesting dinner companion; he was light and animated and seemed to time shocking statements to precisely when she took a sip of her drink. He was a natural entertainer and appeared to delight in making her laugh, even when she didn't want to. His behavior was so at odds with what she had expected that she wasn't entirely sure what to think. Less than two hours ago he had been the master manipulator that she was all too familiar with, playing her co-workers like a well-tuned orchestra. Even when they had returned to the apartment, he had still been working the situation to his advantage, frustrating her with the declaration that she was the only one that didn't see him as her boyfriend.

And that was where the past came knocking, because it was the exact same battle that they had fought five years ago. He had masqueraded as her boyfriend until it had been the truth, gaining the trust of her family while insinuating himself so deeply into her life that Sarah hadn't been able to extricate herself until it was too late. They had had meals together like this before, with her family or his family, and the one meal alone; they had exchanged casual and easy banter over a lazy afternoon of card games; they had danced and held each other like lovers. And then everything had gone to hell.

That was the danger of Jareth. He was an irresistible magnet, a natural charmer, and as addictive as any narcotic. But, much like a drug, there always seemed to be some price to pay. For every happy moment that Sarah had had with this man, she had had to pay twofold for it with pain.

"Where have you wandered off to now?" Jareth asked quietly, sounding much closer than he should have been.

With a startled jump, Sarah realized that he was kneeling next her chair, one hand resting gently on her knee. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice slightly higher than usual. She wanted to think that her pinched tone was from shock, but the simple truth was that even through her skirt and his glove, she could still feel the heat of his hand burning into her flesh. "I'm right here."

"Physically, perhaps," he agreed, looking up at her, his head cocked to the side, "but mentally you're miles away. So, where have you gone?" His thumb began an unconscious stroking of the little hollows of her knee.

She swallowed roughly. His closeness was always disconcerting no matter how often she was exposed to his presence, and while his gesture was small, it made one thing clear: he _knew_ women. Most men didn't notice when they lost a woman's attention; Jareth not only noticed, he cared. Deeply, if his thumb stroking was anything to go by. The lazy, trailing circles were comforting, not overtly sexual, as though by touching her he could somehow help anchor her thoughts.

A bad boy who cared? Damn, that was dangerous!

It was easy to be on guard against someone when their seductive tactics were blatant. She had mistakenly assumed that he would always be blunt about his sexuality merely because he had an attitude and a fondness for leather. Stupid, she berated herself; she should have known better. Every time she had thought she had the man pinned down he had shown her a new face; why should now be any different? Still, it was a little shocking to be receiving selfless gestures of concern; even five years ago, their relationship really hadn't worked that way.

"The past," she finally choked out an answer, gesturing vaguely between them. "I was thinking about the past."

He frowned. "You worry too much, Sarah. Life is what you make of it. Just _be_ for a while; don't think about work, or what happened five or even ten years ago. Relax."

"I can't," she admitted on an explosive sigh. "Every gesture you make reminds of the first time I saw you do it; every conversation we have seems like a replay of one that we've already muddle our way through; everything we do together draws up the memory of what we did together last time. And then it all just leads back to how it ended." She sighed again. "I feel like I'm doing mental cartwheels and I can't stop."

"Did you do this last time?" Jareth asked quietly, a thoughtful look on his face. "Compare everything that was happening to what you already knew through the Labyrinth?"

Sarah snorted. "Yes, and it drove me crazy then, too."

"Well then, you see," he shook his head, a small smile curling his lips, "it's already been proven that it's simply not good for you to think so much. You, Miss Williams, live too much in the past."

That seemed like an odd statement coming from someone who was a projection of himself at a younger age. "I can't help it," she admitted, "you make me squirrelly."

He gave her a look of mock outrage. "I beg your pardon?"

"I never know what you're thinking," she explained, "so I always have to reference what I already know about you. And, generally speaking, what I already know about you tends to be a little on the multifaceted-somewhat-creepy side, so I end up analyzing both situations to figure out what makes one different from the other, and after that I take those differences and try to figure out how your going to act. Then you do act, and I'm almost always wrong, which makes me start analyzing things again, until it's a never-ending cycle and I'm out of my mind trying to figure out _what the hell you're thinking_." She took a deep breath, "See? You make me squirrelly."

"You could just _ask_, you know," he said bemusedly.

"Oh please," she snorted, "your brand of truth is more twisted than a corkscrew."

Jareth gave her a very blank stare, then replied in a bland tone, "Yes, well, no one ever said I had to _honest_; I merely suggested that you ask instead of doing mental acrobats. I mean, if you're going to be wrong anyway, you might as well settle for the almost-but-not-quite truth that I'd be likely to give you."

"No," she said, giving him a blank stare in return. "Maybe you should try it sometime," Sarah recommended snidely, "because then you'd remember that I'm stubborn. I might not like my mental stumblings, but that's my system and I'm sticking to it."

He squeezed her knee, as though finally realizing where his hand was. "You, Miss Sarah, are in desperate need of sex."

* * *

_Oran kept a careful eye on the land. The Underground was a dynamic oasis that catered to the magically inclined. It was nature at her most splendorous and yet, at the same time, it was manufactured. The Underground only existed because Jareth had willed it to be so, a fact that still chilled many people and made then understandably wary of their king. Some of the land upon which they had resided in the mortal realm had come with them, but the vast majority of it his son had created. Now, with Jareth ill as he was, some of the land was starting to waiver. The ties that kept their world away from the mortals were unwinding, and once they were gone the Underground would be no more._

_Could they go back to living in the realm of the humans? After such a long absence was it possible to once again coexist with their mortal brethren?_

_He had a feeling that the answer was no._

_The alliance between themselves and man had always been tenuous, at best, and in the absence of Oran's kind man had developed their own magic through science and reasoning. If the magic lands suddenly found themselves back to where they had once been, along with all the creatures that inhabited them, then the humans would stop at nothing to find some scientifically viable explanation. The greatest horror of all was the paradoxical reasoning of humans; to understand how something lived, they always had to see it die first._

_Jareth had avoided a full out war between the two races, those many centuries ago. Oran would never be able to approve of the Labyrinth or it's utilization, but he could not fault the younger monarch with his decision to slip away from the mortal realm. Despite the awesome and terrifying power it had proven his son to possess, that drastic action had saved countless lives and, indeed, made him one of the greatest ruling kings ever. _

_That wondrous achievement was coming undone and no one had the power to stop it, save for Jareth himself. What was a father to do when he was faced with losing both his child _and_ his home? The Twins had suggested preemptive diplomacy but…_

_The Twins._

_Oran wracked his brain, trying to remember the last time he had seen his dubious duo. The past few month were a hazy blur of grief and helplessness, one in which the Twins' faces were markedly absent. They had always made themselves scarce during moments of grief, leaving Oran to believe that their natural levity didn't allow them to handle the situation well so they preferred to be alone in such moments, but Jareth meant the world to those boys. It didn't make sense that they would stay away when the older brother that they idolized in so many ways was in need of all the help he could get. Unless…_

_Unless they _were_ helping. _

_Oran knew each son as well as they would let him. With Jareth he had always shared a close bond, even during their darkest days; he had known, from the moment his tempestuous child of winter was born, that this son would be very much like his father. He had tried to form the same deep relationship with Laim, but Imm had come so close on his heels and they had kept each other's counsel from the first. Of course, some things he instinctively knew about them simply because he was their father and had done his best to help raise them but, when it really came right down to it, he only knew what they let him know. _

_His Autumn and Spring were fun loving, but there were two sides to every coin. They had learned many tricks at their older brother's hands, and not all of those tricks had been pleasant ones. For as much as they loved to make others laugh they, too, knew when and how to be brutal and calculating._

_Oran sighed heavily, knowing he would have to find his wayward sons before they made the situation any worse or somehow managed to violate Jareth's ridiculously complex contract. Why was it that the only person in the family not scheming was his dear, sweet wife?_

* * *

_As a matter of fact, his dear, sweet wife _was_ scheming._

_Five years of watching one of her babies deteriorate until he was hardly there anymore was more than any mother could take. And, she knew, there was another mother out there just as worried about her own babies._

_Leshia strolled serenely through the country neighborhood, her sights set on the aging Victorian at the end of the lane. She had decided that it was just about time that she met Karen Williams and the infamous Toby._

* * *

Sarah snorted, desperately trying to hold in a laugh. "Why is it that men think sex can cure everything?"

Jareth stood up and leaned against the edge of the table, his legs nearly brushing her own. "Because it can," he stated resolutely.

This time she did laugh, focusing on their banter rather than how close he was. "Yeah, I can see it now: you'll slowly be stripping off my clothes and I'll start analyzing your preferences based upon the clothing that you've dressed me in over the years, then you'll start kissing and groping and I'll just be sitting there wondering how and why it's different from the times we've made out in the past."

"You ought to be careful, little Sarah," he said lowly, his eyes smoldering as his posture became, if possible, even lazier. "That sounds a lot like a challenge from where I'm standing."

"Really?" she asked sarcastically. "Because it sounds an awful lot like criticism from over here."

He was on her in an instant, pulling her to her feet as he hungrily slanted his lips over her own.

* * *

A/N: The good news is my schedule is pretty straightforward this semester, leaving me ample time to write. The bad news is I _really_ want to get the first story of The Never Series done before I write the next chapter. But, honestly, we'll just have to wait and see because this first installment has been running away from me ever since I began writing it. Anyway, I'll be sure to get _something_ done to get my weekly updates rolling again.

A big 'thank you' to everyone who has sent in their reviews and encouragements! It never ceases to amaze me how wonderful and supportive you guys are.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: Jareth, Sarah, and all other characters of Labyrinth belong to Henson Productions and Industrial Light and Illusions. Oran, the Twins, Leshia, and all miscellaneous characters are my own.


	7. KissBruised Lips

Chapter Seven: Kiss-Bruised Lips.

It didn't really register at first. Sarah's mind knew that Jareth was kissing her, but her lips hadn't quite caught up yet. She floundered for a moment, trying to catch her balance from having been yanked to her feet, which only made her lean into Jareth more as he wrapped his arms around her, perfectly content to provide her support; her lips quivered for a moment, still not sure what to do.

A buzz flared to life somewhere around her toes and began to make its way upward.

Jareth's hands closed securely around her waist; he lifted her up, spun both of them around, and seated her on the table that had been at his back. The table only helped bridge their height difference marginally, he still had to lean down to kiss her, but in all of his rearranging his lips had never left her own. It was kind of impressive, especially considering that the table still held their dinner and he had managed to seat her on an unoccupied space without really looking.

The buzz rippled through her belly mercilessly and continued northward.

For a moment he bent over her awkwardly, his thighs pressed against her raised knees, straining his kiss just a bit. He growled lowly, one hand wandering from her waist to trail across her thigh and settle on her knee. His long fingers curled over it, his thumb and pinky easily settling into the little hollows on the backside of her leg. At first he seemed content to merely hold her like that, but she knew what he meant to do, so when he began moving her leg to the side she fought him. Unfortunately, her action was more on principle than any actual desire, so it was a halfhearted battle, at best. He settled between her thighs comfortably and growled again, obviously pleased with the new angle and the contact it afforded him.

The buzz made it all the way up to her head, and Sarah finally snapped.

She threw one hand around his neck and fisted the other in his shirt, pulling him as close as possible. Restlessly, she worked her lips against his, searching for something that she couldn't put a name to, and when Jareth played at the seam of her mouth she readily opened to him. His tongue swept in, not conquering or exploring, but playfully engaging in battle with her own. He tasted, not surprisingly, like magic, a spicy vitality that she couldn't get enough of.

* * *

_Jareth felt like purring. Sarah's skirt had bunched up around her thighs, revealing a mouthwateringly silky expanse of skin. Quickly, without breaking the kiss, he stripped off both of his gloves and began to trail lazy circles over the delectable flesh. The first jolt of purely physical contact was electrifying; pleasure skittered painfully intense along his nerves. It was half the reason he wore gloves so often, his hands were damn sensitive and, if Sarah's little jump was any indication, their pheromonal effect hadn't worn off any._

_Her feet hooked around the back of his legs, their hips grinding together for the briefest of seconds. She let out a quiet whimper at the contact and, as the sound vibrated low in her throat, he realized he wanted to hear her make that noise as much as possible._

_Damn, but the woman got under his skin! Every second they were together he wanted her even more; he could almost understand why the Jareth of five years ago had been so blindingly desperate to possess this woman. As it stood, he wanted to taste every inch of her, learn her little quirks and turn-ons, find the secret spots that made her quiver and mewl. He had a grim idea that intimacy with Sarah Williams could get a man addicted, that it lead down a road that ended in wedding bells. At the moment he didn't care, not when one little hand was weaving through his hair while the other began to unbutton his shirt. It was magic, pure and simple, that snapped between them, a power fueled by explosive chemistry, drawing two halves together._

_She broke the kiss, her dark head leaning down to explore his chest. He watched her, his hands still idly stroking her thighs and drawing light shudders out of them both, watched as her hand came up to trail against his belly and her mouth lowered to nip his collarbone. Her wicked lips closed over one of his flat nipples and teased the sensitive skin exactly the way he wanted to tease her. The pleasure built up along his spine, his hips unconsciously grinding into hers until they were both panting and she was damn near biting him in retaliation._

_At that moment he decided the world could go to hell and it would not tear him away from this woman, so when the doorbell rang he was perfectly content to ignore it. Sarah, however, jumped back as though she had been struck. He groaned and grabbed her shoulders as she started to pull away from him. "Ignore it," he pleaded huskily, but he could already tell that, for her at least, the moment was gone._

"_I can't," she replied, clearly irritate, though he wasn't sure if it was at him or whoever was at the door._

_Jareth resolutely refused to move—if she was going to end the sinfully fun time they were having then she was going to have to work for it. She gave him a looked that was both annoyed and lusty when her failed attempts to get away from him merely ground their hips together some more. A growl caught in her throat as the bell rang again and she pulled a move that he would remember to his dying day. _

_She scuttled backward on her adorable rear, then lifted one leg and swung it around his hips, as though dismounting a horse. He barely avoided getting kicked in the face, but the scuffle told him two thing: one, little Sarah was quite the _limber_ lady and, two, her panties were a red lace that definitely merited future inspection._

* * *

Karen Williams survived life by taking each day as it came. She had lived that way for many years, though it had once been out of choice rather than necessity. Her own mother had squelched the impulsive nature right of Karen, had ruthlessly destroyed the fantasy that had lingered behind her young eyes and replaced it with knowledge and etiquette. The days had been long and torturous back then, but she had survived them by them by never thinking about the future beyond what was necessary. She had been groomed into the perfect little socialite and, once the deed was done, she had been so far removed from fantasy that she'd forgotten how much she had hated her mother for taking it away.

And Karen had tried to do the same thing to Sarah, had tried to pull the girl's head out of the clouds and get her focused on friends and boys. The younger woman had always rebelled though—it was simply in her nature—and in her rebellion she had decided all their fates. She wasn't too clear on the details, but she knew Sarah and Jareth had met long before Karen had ever learned about him; had played through that red, leather-bound book that she wished none of them had ever read.

Her _boyfriend_.

She snorted. That was such a misleading title. Oh sure, at first he had seemed wonderful—a gorgeous, foreign boy who knew how to take Sarah's temper in stride. He had been polite and amusing, had regaled them all with stories of his family. The only thing that he hadn't mentioned was that he was from another world. That he wasn't, in any sense of the word, human. Karen still shuddered to think of the wild creature she had finally seen him to truly be. And Sarah had known, the whole time, what she had been sitting next to, what she had been exchanging light and easy touches with. Had that been why she had always seemed so tense when the two of them were near the family? There had been some real affection there, real attraction, she was sure of it, but more and more Karen was beginning to understand that it had been in spite of Sarah's better judgment.

She couldn't fault the girl for caring, for trusting some part of her heart to the man that had led to all this trouble. Love made a fool out of everyone, and a woman like Sarah would never have been able to completely resist the alluring charm of fantasy. But now her stepdaughter was closing herself off from the world, her son alternated between two distinctly different personalities, and both her and Robert were terrified of what a repeat performance might do to their children.

That was why, when the woman crossing over the threshold of her house changed from a dusky mocha coloring to a gentle green, Karen screamed.

* * *

_Leshia covered her ears and stared at the human curiously, wondering why the screaming had started so early. She had expected it, honestly, the first time she mentioned Jareth or Oran, names that the woman would have recognized. But, obviously, Mrs. Williams had developed an aversion to the supernatural, because she was only ten seconds in the door and already the woman was exhausting her vocal chords._

_She understood, she truly did, but a small feminine part of her couldn't help but be offended. Leshia took pride in her appearance. She was short compared to her boys, but well proportioned, her skin was a glittering sage and her hair fell in long tresses of hunter-green woven through with small silver leaves. She was everything that the forest demanded: lush, green, and subdued in nature. Never had she considered herself scream-worthy, unless it happened to be her husband._

_As Karen Williams began her second round of screaming—honestly, that was just taking it too far!—Leshia's gift finally took root. An innate ability to exude serenity always came in handy, especially when living with four equally mischievous and stubborn men, but for the woman standing before her it could only take the edge off. Her fear and anger were still apparent, but she was no longer trying to bring the roof down. Briefly she wished that Oran were with her—they always worked better in tandem, serenity and compassion—but this was a conversation best left to mothers._

"_I come in peace," Leshia tried not to snicker when she realized that she probably sounded like something out of one of those awful alien movies the humans so loved to watch. _

* * *

Sarah smoothed her skirt down, fixed her shirt, did her best to finger-comb her hair, and tried really hard _not_ to look like a woman that had been about two minutes away from finding out how sturdy her dinner table actually was.

It probably didn't work very well.

She could feel her pulse thundering just beneath her skin, skin that suddenly felt several sizes too small, craving stimulation, friction. And even if she managed to hide all that, she could never hide the most obvious sign of all: kiss-bruised lips.

Mentally, she was somewhere between thanking whoever had interrupted her and Jareth and thinking about their interloper as a devil-spawned cretin. Jareth's arrogance had finally been well placed; she had challenged him to empty her mind and he had. She would have seen the act through to the end this time; he had taken his gloves off and the minute his bare skin had touched her thighs, she had started burning. She had experienced physical desire before, but his touch had sent her crazy with the sheer intensity of it. Lust, addicting and pure, had wanted nothing more than their clothes to disappear and their bodies to be as close as possible. They would have had sex, after all these year on her _dinner table_. It would have been phenomenal sex, she was certain, but the stupid table would have always reminded her of what had happened, and she would have regretted it. Perhaps not the act itself, she was confident that he could please her like no one else, but she would have regretted that it happened because there was still so much between them that just wasn't right yet. So, with a paradoxical mix of gratitude and grudging acceptance, she answered the door.

Leo Knight stood on the other side, a hopeful look in his brown gaze that made Sarah want to roll her eyes. Leo was a library patron who happened to live in the same apartment complex and had taken an instant liking to her. She didn't know how many more times or ways she could say 'no' before he finally understood that she just wasn't interested. He was a very nice man, and she enjoy talking to him, but he only ever saw her professional side; innately, she knew he would never be able to handle her temper.

Leo smiled brightly at her. "Hello, Sarah."

She opened her mouth, wearily about to exchange meaningless pleasantries, but before the words ever left her lips an arm dropped around her waist, pulling her into the solid chest at her back. Sarah swallowed roughly; the edges of Jareth's still unbuttoned shirt enclosed her shoulders, wrapping her in his warmth while his hand played with the belt loops at her waist. His blond head lowered over her shoulder and her neighbor paled slightly; she could almost picture the haughty look Jareth was probably giving him.

Warm lips pressed to her neck in a quick kiss. "I missed you," he murmured in a tone so decadent it nearly made her knees buckle.

Leo was fixated on them as though hypnotized and she knew, without a doubt, that though Jareth was talking to her, he was staring the other man down like a wolf. And, if it weren't for the fact that her brown-eyed visitor looked so comically horrified, Sarah would have dug an elbow into the gut of her 'lover'.

Jareth nuzzled around her ear a bit, then asked Leo, "And you are?"

The poor man stammered for a minute, still trying to reconcile what he was seeing with what he thought he knew about her. "Leo Knight," he finally answered, darting a look between the pair before him. "I'm a friend of Sarah's."

"Really?" Jareth asked in his familiar, mocking, Goblin King voice. "I'll bet I'm a better friend, though." And with that, he shut the door in a stricken Leo's face.

* * *

A/N: Yay, I'm actually early with an update! I wasn't going to write until later, but the long weekend sort of crunched up my week and I have quite a bit of free time on my hands, so I figured I might as well.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: Labyrinth and all the characters thereof do not belong to me.


	8. Midnight Waltz, part one

Chapter Eight: Midnight Waltz, part one.

_Sarah backed away from the door, pressing herself more firmly against Jareth's chest. He didn't regret what he'd done to the stuttering fool, Leo's expression had been priceless, but he was a little concerned about why Sarah was shaking and whether that pointed toward another night spent sleeping on the devil-sofa._

* * *

_Leshia had ample experience with humans, but she found herself falling short with Karen Williams. She had managed to settle the mortal down in a sitting parlor, where they were now drinking a nice hot tea and carefully avoiding eye contact. Karen, at least, had an excuse for this, since she was frightened and didn't know what was going on. Leshia, however, had no idea how to kill the silence and be done with it; for all her knowledge of humans, she had no idea how to broach the subject of why she was there. She took a deep breath, not yet certain what she would say-_

_And stared in mute fascination as the blonde woman slammed her cup down on the coffee table and snarled, "Stay the hell away from my children."_

"_You don't even know who I am," Leshia observed calmly._

"_Stay away from my children!" Karen repeated loudly, now more angry than panicked._

_This was as good a place as any to start, Leshia decided. "You love them very much, then?"_

"_Of course I do," she snapped indignantly._

"_But Sarah is not truly your daughter, and a grown woman on top of that," Leshia pointed out._

_Karen narrowed her eyes. "Yes, and she's often a pain in the ass as well, but she's still part of this family."_

_She regarded the mortal woman before smiling sadly. "Then perhaps you would understand what I am about to tell you, from one mother to another."_

_The icy eyes stayed narrowed, but the blonde one tightly nodded her head._

"_I am Leshia," the green woman sighed tiredly, "wife of Oran; Jareth's mother." Karen's eyes flared with panic, but she didn't give the woman enough time to interrupt. "I thought, perhaps, that you and I could fix things while the boys blunder around with their schemes."_

"_Fix things?" Karen asked cautiously. "Toby, you mean?"_

_Leshia shook her head. "My family bears scars, just as yours. For five years I've had to watch my Jareth decline. Every day there seems to be less of him than there was the day before; he's practically insensible now, perhaps even dying. Your boy is stuck hosting a fragment Jareth, and Sarah is likely suffering from more than either of us could ever understand. And I think, as mothers, it's time we put an end to it."_

"_What are you suggesting?" she asked, sounding as though she understood the importance of the question but still had to rip it from herself. _

"_Sarah must return Underground. My family has done everything it can to help Jareth, but I think Sarah is the only one with the power to heal him. If she could find a way to get him even half-way steady then healing Toby would only be a matter of time."_

_Karen became defensive. "You wouldn't harm her?"_

_Leshia considered the other woman for a moment. She hadn't known Sarah for long, a day at best, but she had gotten the impression that the girl wasn't particularly close to her stepmother. From Karen's end, though, she could tell that even if they didn't get along, the older woman obviously cared for her stepdaughter as fiercely as Sarah would let her._

_The question left her mildly indignant, though she conceded that it was a legitimate concern for this woman, and answered, "Oh Stars, no! This was a group effort, my dear; it took both Sarah _and_ Jareth to mess things up so badly. I can't, in good conscience, blame one and not the other, so I choose to blame neither."_

"_I suppose they aren't as good of a match as I had assumed," Karen murmured to herself, looking faraway._

_Leshia snorted, a sound that was rather at odds with her dainty appearance. "Really? I think they're perfect for one another; they're young and bound to ruffle each other's feathers, but they'll work it out eventually. Why, I remember when I met my Oran; granted, it wasn't anywhere near as epic as this, but quite sensational, in its own right."_

"_You went through the same thing then?"_

_This time she laughed outright. "Oh, no. I hated Oran very much, and tried quite desperately to put an arrow through his fool head on more than one occasion. But it worked out wonderfully in the end, and the children are already ahead of where we were, since they're _both_ attracted to each other."_

_Karen looked horrified that such violence seemed to be a part of their family's idea of courtship. _

* * *

Sarah tried to take another step back from the door, but she was already flush against Jareth so her movement really did her no good. Even so, pressed together as they were, her shoulders shook.

Her mind was having a hard time wrapping around what had just happened. Five minutes ago she had been playing _What Part of Jareth Tastes Best?_ and now she was staring at the door that had been slammed in her neighbor's face. She couldn't quite switch from lust to logic so fast, but she knew that Jareth had definitely been grandstanding. Poor Leo; sure he came on strong, but he was a good conversationalist, a friend even. She had no desire to date him, they didn't know each other nearly well enough for that, but she did appreciate his occasional company. Still…

Her shoulders shook a little more. The image of Leo's face, frozen in the most horrified expression at Jareth's statement , flashed through her mind.

Sarah finally burst out laughing. "I can't believe you just did that!" she wheezed to the man at her back.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist. "He interrupted us," Jareth replied haughtily, nuzzling the back of her neck.

She dissolved into snickers, but still managed to push away from him. "Nice try," she said, matching his tone, "but I've come back to my senses."

Jareth frowned, looking like he was about to test his 'sex solves everything' theory for a second time. "I think I'm offended that you're comparing my seductive skills to temporary insanity," he said in one of his almost-pouts. "You just _aim_ to wound the ego, don't you?"

"When it's yours," she admitted snidely, "yes."

"Now you're just being mean," he pointed out with a raised brow, not looking put-off in the least.

Sarah gave him a disbelieving look. "I'm sure the view you got of my panties more than makes up for this."

He smiled wickedly. "Yes, about that sinfully red-"

"I'm not having this conversation," she interrupted him, moving back to the dinner table where she began to clean things up.

"I don't see why not," he complained, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. "I wouldn't mind, if our roles where reversed."

"That's because you're not a woman, and you're probably not wearing any," she answered absently.

"Well, thank the Stars for that," he quipped, "I think we'd have a serious mechanical problem if we were _both_ women." He waited until she tried to enter the kitchen, trapping her in the doorway with him. "So, you've thought about my underwear, have you?"

She ducked under his restraining arm and began to set the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. "This conversation isn't helping your case any," she warned.

Jareth shrugged, his easy capitulation rather suspicious to her eyes. "All right, who was that twit at the door then?"

"Leo?" Sarah asked, deciding to do the cooking-pots by hand rather than let the machine handle them.

"No, the _other_ twit at the door," he retorted sarcastically. "Yes, Leo." He watched her for a moment, then said calmly, "You know, I can't help but think that you're using domestic chores to hide from me."

She was midway through rinsing a pan out when the dishes simply disappeared and the washer turned itself on. Her hands floundered for a moment, her back stiffening. He wasn't all that far off the mark, really, she thought. She _was_ using the brainless routine of dishwashing so that she wouldn't have to face him until she'd calmed down a bit. There was nothing even mildly erotic about doing the dishes, but Jareth had called her on it and taken away her nice, safe distraction.

Sarah took a calming breath before turning to face him, then backed up against the sink when he turned out to be closer than she had thought. "Leo," she finally replied, "is a friend of mine."

She thought, for a split second, that something very much like jealousy flared in his eyes at the word 'friend', but it was gone so quickly that she wondered if she'd really seen it at all.

* * *

Karen sat back and finally conceded that there was something about Leshia that put her at ease. Perhaps it was the woman's inherent calmness or the fact that she was staring at Toby with blatant affection in her eyes. She'd wanted to choke when her son had popped into the parlor. He'd frozen at the first sight of Leshia—so out of place in their ordinary room, her gentle green coloring and exotic features making everything else seem drab by comparison—but she had beamed at the boy as though he were a favored nephew. Now they sat huddled together, her boy who was growing up much too fast and their visitor from beyond the wells of imagination, and Karen couldn't find it within herself to be distressed. She was worried about the overall situation, there was no doubt in that—her family had not survived their first encounter so well—but the other woman's manner seemed to give her hope. Maybe there _was_ a way to fix all of this if they put their heads together; that was, after all, a mother's duty.

"And this one?" Leshia asked interestedly, pointing to a pale scar on Toby's elbow.

He grinned from ear to ear. "Sarah wouldn't teach me how to climb trees, so I taught myself," there was pride in his voice, the pride of any lesson finally learned. "It didn't go so well at first, though."

Leshia splayed his hand on top of her own, palm up, for inspection. "What of these?" she asked. "There are an awful lot of these," the fingers of her other hand trailed over a faded network of scars that crossed over the boy's palm. They danced over his skin in quick arcs and didn't look very deep.

His smile faded into a confused look. "I don't know," Toby finally admitted. "I remember snow and some drunk blue guy."

"Drunk blue guy," she repeated slowly.

Karen stared at her son's hands as though seeing them for the first time. She was a strong woman and she had shouldered a lot in the past five years, but right then she felt like crying. She had never noticed the scars before, and she should have; in five years she had bathed him, washed his hands, played games, but the scars simply hadn't been there until now.

Leshia stood up and ruffled his hair before moving over to Karen. "We'll fix this," she murmured quietly. "I have to talk to my fool husband first but, I promise you, we will fix this."

* * *

_Oran stood between worlds, able to view both the Aboveground and the Underground, and yet was in neither. He searched restlessly for his wayward Twins, but found his wife instead._

* * *

_Jareth watched Sarah's jaw clench as she looked at the bed._

_She hadn't said very much about Leo and he had stopped asking; the name had started to leave a foul taste in his mouth. They'd talked rather aimlessly after that, both backing away from each other; she was nervous, and he was… angry. Irrational jealousy had flooded through him when she'd pronounced that the mortal was her friend. That word didn't sit well with him; he hated the sound of it and loathed the idea that anyone might be closer to Sarah than he was. Anger had followed close on the heels of jealousy, but it had been anger at himself. He'd been jealous of a dwarf and now a man, and yet he was the one who had nearly had sex with her on a dinner table. If friendship excluded such events then he certainly didn't want to be friends. Bed-friends, though... that was another matter._

_He hadn't thought to push her on it, but Sarah had eventually broached the subject of sleeping arrangements. The simple thought of not have to wage war against the fuchsia beast-couch for another night was enough to make him giddy. But to share a bed with Sarah? Now that made him downright euphoric, even after her growled warning, "You try any funny business _at all_ and I will cut your dangly bits off, understand?"_

_He felt like purring._

* * *

A/N: Huzzah for chapter 8! I didn't think I was going to make it before the weekend. Normally I take weekends off to do my own thing anyway, but _this_ weekend is my birthday so my father is taking me to see Les Miserables.

Sorry this chapter is so short everyone!

Please Review!

Disclaimer: Labyrinth and all its associated characters do not belong to me.


	9. Midnight Waltz, part two

Chapter Nine: Midnight Waltz, part two.

Among psychologists and dream analysts there's a phenomenon known as the waking dream: a state in which one realizes that they are asleep and are thus able to control the dream itself. It never worked that way for Sarah. She'd had these sort of fantasies before, knew she was dreaming, and yet never seemed able to influence whatever was going to happen. Normally it wouldn't have bothered her—after all, it was largely inconsequential what her mind cooked up while sleeping—but her waking dreams almost always involved Jareth, and the lack of control made her uneasy.

A lazy golden sky spilled into a green ocean, the waves lapping quietly on a black sand beach. Sarah buried her toes into the whispering surf and wondered why she never had power over these things. It stood to reason that if this was her sleeping mind, then she ought to be able to change the scenery or make something interesting happen. But then, therein laid the problem: perhaps it wasn't _her_ sleeping mind. The connection between her and Jareth was deeper than she could begin to fathom, so deep that, even when sleeping, his thoughts and feelings were still a part of her.

She shivered, even as the summery sun warmed her skin. Sarah hadn't had one of these dreams in five years, and back then they had definitely leaned toward the sexual. If Jareth was around—and she had no doubt that he was; probably skulking about until the right moment presented itself—then she was in definite trouble. She wasn't sure how well she'd be able to fend him off after the intense make-out session they'd engaged in after dinner; her control had always been a little shaky in real life, but in the dreams she'd barely had any defenses against him at all.

It truly wasn't fair that this was happening again; they had managed to get through all of the previous night without sharing dreams. Was tonight different because they were sharing a bed?

Sarah finally admitted the truth to herself: she'd fallen asleep a lot sooner than she should have. But Jareth's presence had been familiar, perhaps even a little comforting, despite that his vaguely gentlemanly behavior raised her suspicions. The magic that was so much a part of who he was had wrapped around her, like sinking into a warm bath after a day of toiling in the bitter cold. And it scared her, more than she would ever like to admit. Time and again, she stood resolute against him and his actions, and yet—in the quiet hours, when her mind could not ignore what her soul knew—she felt as though they were two halves of the same whole; constantly fighting, and yet knowing that, if they could just find the right angle, they would fit together perfectly.

So perhaps, she mused grimly, she had allowed the dream to happen, had slipped into the familiarity of Jareth's presence and _allowed_ their sleeping minds to share the same dream. It was a scary thought because it meant that, in five years and through all the grief and regret that she had been through, her response to him had not changed.

Sarah started as something rustled in the tall beach grass behind her, something small and pale that darted out to wade through the green surf. It was a little boy with luminous silver skin, golden hair that fell in wild riots around his shoulders, and more energy than such a languid sunset warranted. He skipped and jumped through the calm waters, whooping and splashing and absolutely soaking himself. After a while, nature seemed to become infected by his attitude, the gentle ripples becoming crashing waves as the lazy sky bled from a warm gold to a fiery red.

The boy whooped again, the strange utterance sounding nearly like a battle cry, before he dove under the turbulent waters. Sarah surged to her feet in panic. Less than a minute ago she wouldn't have cared whether the child went under or not, but now the water was white-capped and roaring and more than capable of trapping a small boy in a wicked undertow. The fact that this was a dream suddenly wasn't registering at all as she quickly stripped off her her pullover and ran into the green ocean, looking for any sign of the little silver imp.

Her feet sank into the warm sand and she was about two seconds away from diving under the frightening surf when something wrapped around her ankle and pulled her under. For one panicked moment she thought the riptide had gotten her and she was about to be dragged out to sea, then she realized it was a hand that had clamped around her. She surged to her feet—which turned out to be slightly difficult because her body merely wanted to follow the motion of the waves—coming face to face with the boy.

His impish face was split in a wide smile, laughter bubbling between his lips; his hair hung wildly about his face in wet clumps of gold. Peaking out from under his hair was a pair of blue eyes, icy in color but warm in nature, one pupil larger than the other.

Jareth. He looked about ten years old, but it was Jareth all the same.

"Couldn't resist, could you?" he asked, water trailing in narrow rivulets down his face and neck. "You looked so bored on the beach, I knew you'd come in to play."

Sarah wiped the stinging salt out of her eyes and regarded the young boy. "I was afraid you'd drown," she replied hotly.

A wave reared up behind him, twice as tall as he was, but split around the boy and crashed against the beach behind her. "Drown?" he sounded confused. "A prince cannot drown!"

"I assure you, they can," she answered, frowning at his statement.

"Well," he quipped, "maybe _a_ prince can, but not _this_ prince! The waves dance _for_ me, not _against_ me."

She stayed silent as he regarded her, unsure of what to say in light of that strange speech. He shook his head after a moment, a confused smile quirking his lips, and led her back to the beach. The minute he shook free of the water, the waves calmed and returned to their gentle lapping, only one or two errant swirls marring the serenity.

His statement finally clicked. 'The waves dance _for_ me,' he'd said, but it probably would have been more accurate to say that they danced _because_ of him. Jareth had once explained to her that his kind was born with an inherent gift, a power that was uniquely theirs, and for him that power was to make the environment match his mood. He had said that the change was usually small and unnoticeable, like a subtle shift in temperature or the colors around him. She had only seen a dramatic change once, back in the Labyrinth when the Escher Room had fallen apart. Now there was this. But it made sense, at least; a young boy was filled with boundless energy, and he had run into those waves like a little hellion. His gift had taken over and reshaped the surf into something more appropriate.

"What are you called?" he finally broke the silence, settling both of them on a little black dune that overlooked the whole beach.

Well that was a strangely phrased question; was he asking for her name or her species? "Excuse me?"

He titled his head. "I'm Jareth the Incorrigible, who are you?"

"Sarah the Confused," she answered. This was a shared dream, wasn't it? It hadn't even crossed her mind that he wouldn't know her. And why was he a child? Jareth had never changed forms within their dreams, which had been a blessing because most of them had involved some light petting.

He laughed. "That's a funny name! My Sire has a funny name, too; most people call him Oran the Brash but, behind his back, Amyl and the kitchen staff call him Oran the Stew Decimator. He hates it, but I think it's great." He paused and took a deep breath. "So how'd you get to be called the Confused?"

Her brain stuttered to a halt once she realized he's asked a question. The boy spoke so fast it was all she could do to keep up with him. "I just am," she replied. "Confused, that it."

Jareth shrugged and his gaze wandered out to the darkening water. Small lights flitted beneath the surface, growing brighter as the sun slipped lower beneath the horizon. They seemed to fascinate him. "I hope I'll get a good name when I'm king," he said quietly. "Something that'll make people think twice before trying to take me on, like Jareth the Violently Impatient."

Sarah laughed. That was such a _boyish_ thing to say, and she had a feeling that were the older him to hear that name he wouldn't think it nearly so wonderful.

* * *

_Oran sat between the realms, his starry-silver hair glowing faintly in the gloom, looking for the Twins, though Leshia wasn't entirely certain why. Imm and Laim had never expressed an interest in going Above, why start now? Unless it had to do with Sarah, she mused. After all, that was what had drawn her back after so many centuries. The Twins loved their brother deeply and, though they had only known her for such a brief time, she knew they had come to care for Sarah as well. _

"_Why do you search so desperately, my floundering husband?" she asked quietly, curling her fingers into his hair._

_He leaned into the caress. "Our boys are in trouble."_

"_When are they ever not?" Leshia asked, resting her chin on his shoulder._

"_Serious trouble," he emphasized._

_Her fingers slipped from his hair, her arms draping themselves around his shoulders. "My statement stands firm."_

"_Against Jareth's explicit, contractual wishes, kind of trouble," Oran pressed, turning his iridescent gaze to meet eyes with her for a moment._

"_Ah," she said simply. _

"_Yes, ah," he replied wearily._

_She was silent for a moment, watching him sift through the gauzy images that the between-world produced of the Above and Under. "We are talking about the same Twins, yes?"_

"_As long as there aren't any children that you forgot to tell me about—but I rather think I'd notice my wife being pregnant," his gaze never wavered from his work._

"_Our Twins are tricky but smart, Oran; you have no cause to worry on their score," Leshia replied, fiddling with a button on the front of his robe._

_He sighed. "It is not for them I worry, my little forest demon, it is for humanity at large."_

"_Humanity at large?" she asked with a raised eyebrow._

"_The Williams family, in particular," Oran conceded._

"_Speaking of which, I had the most wonderful conversation with Karen this evening," she said girlishly. "She seems a little hesitant, understandably, but I think she would be willing to help, should we ever need it."_

_He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Am I the only one who bothered to read Jareth's contract? Honestly, are the rest of you completely without sense?"_

"_Speaking of which," she replied sternly, ignoring his outburst, "I believe it is once again time for you and I to have that marvelous talk about why it's bad to drunkenly accost toddlers." _

* * *

"A dance for your Prince, my beauty?"

The beach had faded away and the boy along with it. A ballroom had replaced the black sand, candle flame chandeliers had taken the place of the golden sun, and gently swaying dancers had usurped the taciturn waves. Around her was a sea of colors, some quiet and pale, others loud and bright. But, even amid the endless tide of outstanding women, Sarah could feel that she stood out. Her dress reminded her greatly of the green confection of silk and lace that Jareth had dreamed up for her, only this one was a velveteen blue with silver accents, glittering like the night sky; a single shadow of darkness that invaded the bright gowns of the dance floor. Silver ornaments pulled her hair back from her temples, but left the silky mass largely unbound. Aside from that, she was unadorned, no gaudy jewelry like the rest of the ladies, or a bejeweled fan that she could flirt with.

And there was a prince staring at her.

He was dressed in a regal outfit that looked as though he had made it from the night sky, blue velvet studded with magic and precious jewels; a match to her own dress. His face was matured, yet still had a boyish air, blue eyes made all the more vivid by the color of his clothes, while silvery-golden hair spilled around his face in studied elegance.

"You will meet no better dancer on this floor," he coaxed, holding his hand out to her.

She had no choice but to take Jareth's hand, propelled by some morbid curiosity. Their last real dance had been in the Crystal Ball, a moment that Sarah was _always_ reluctant to remember but, after having spent time with the boy-Jareth, she was curious to see how he had changed or if he would remember her.

"No better dancer?" she asked as he pulled her closer and began a slow waltz.

Jareth smiled roguishly. "Perhaps one or two better, but they will soon find themselves with two left feet should I find myself without a dancing partner."

He was charming, just like her own princely version that she had curled up in her bed, but she could already see the vindictive streak that would come out in full force when he was king. For the first time she found herself wondering how it had gotten there at all, but conceded that perhaps he had always been a little mean when it suited his purposes.

"So, to whom do I owe the pleasure of this dance?" he asked, steering her about the dance floor effortlessly.

"No one important," she replied.

He raised a brow. "A Cinderella, then? Come now, you have little to fear in giving me a name. Even Jareth the Caustic knows when to hold his tongue."

From incorrigible to caustic; it wasn't quite what the little Jareth had been hoping for, but it seemed accurate all the same.

"Sarah," she answered quietly, trying to ignore how close they were pressed together or how a wonderful burning warmth seemed to be bleeding into her from his hands.

Something flashed in his eyes, a confused moment of recognition, before the scene began to melt around her.

* * *

Leo Knight sat in a dark room, staring off into space, a blank look on his face. He spoke desperately into the darkness and voices whispered back to him.

"She was with someone."

"_Forget about him."_

"I've never seen her with anyone before."

"_You can out charm him. He's probably a pushover." _

"What if she's in love with him?"

"_Then you'll just have to break it up, won't you?"_

Leo Knight smiled in the dark.

* * *

A lake bathed in the moonlight, surrounded by ancient trees. It would have looked like any other park, if not for the fact that the willowy branches of the trees ended in thistle-like flowers that were made out of fire. A rich glow came from them, dimming and dancing in the night, casting orange and gold shadows around the quiet woodland park. Sarah had been here only once before, but the scene had stuck in her mind.

K'shent Mier. The capital city that Jareth often ruled from. And this was the park where he liked to walk for stress relief. They had walked it together five years ago, and it was here that Sarah had caught her first glimpse of the man who wasn't _just_ the Goblin King. Before that moment she had never thought that he ruled over more than the Labyrinth, had never realized that he was world-weary and lonely.

"Does the memory haunt me, or are you really Sarah?" Jareth's voice whispered behind her.

A moment passed in which she knew, with absolute certainty, that she did not want to turn around, yet she turned anyway. The sight that met her eyes was heartbreaking. Jareth looked wrung out, ill. His face was lined with weariness, the skin deathly as opposed to unearthly pale, and the blue depths of his eyes looked tortured. He bore a stark contrast to the man she had known or the modal of male vitality that was sharing her bed.

"I'm real," she answered, finally understanding what she had been unable to at the beginning of the night. This _was_ a shared dream, but with the real Jareth whose mind flitted from age to age, no longer focused enough to live in the present for more than a few minutes.

He stepped closer, his hand caressing her cheek. "Are you ready to accept responsibility for what you have done?" he asked quietly, reveling in the simple feel of her.

Sarah swallowed, fighting down tears at the pain of everything that had gone wrong between them. "Sometimes I think I am; other times I don't think I'll ever be ready."

He nodded sagely as a small smile ghosted over his lips. "You must be ready soon, darling, the Twins have a way of making things happen." Jareth quickly leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her.

For a moment Sarah stiffened, frightened of him and yet at the same time yearning for his touch.

"Shh," he coaxed, stroking her back, "let me hold you. Give me one pleasant memory to hold onto while adrift in a sea of dark mindlessness."

She relaxed, laying her head on his shoulder. "For what it's worth... I'm sorry," she whispered painfully.

"So am I," he replied, holding her tighter.

They stood that way for longer than Sarah was able to keep track, and when she finally woke up from the dream she was still locked within the embrace.

* * *

A/N: References from D.O.: Amyl—chapter 34 and on; Oran's bad luck with stew—chapter 30; the green dress—chapter 34 and on; K'shent Mier—chapter 16.

I'm not generally one to complain about reviews; I consider myself lucky to have readers at all… but I noticed something and it's kind of been bothering me. Over the last couple of chapters there has been a pretty noticeable decline in reviews, like a 10 to 18 review difference from one chapter to the next, and it just makes me wonder if I'm doing something you guys don't like. So please, if there's something that's bothering you, a certain scene you didn't care for, or you just thought the chapter was boring, tell me and I'll do my best to improve in the future. If you're dissatisfied, then silence is the worst thing you could give me, because without any direction I will continue to do what it is that I've been doing.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and sent me birthday wishes (I had a blast at Les Mis, even though it rained most of the time (see my deviantart page for the full story)).

Please Review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth.


	10. Misplaced Trust

Chapter Ten: Misplaced Trust.

_Imm warily regarded Leo Knight, suddenly unsure that he and his brother had chosen such a wonderful subject. It had started out wonderfully enough—the man's behavior was fairly consistent and their interference would only magnify it a little—but last night…_

_It had become very clear last night, as Leo whispered into the darkness, to voices that no one else could hear, that the man was several cards short of a full deck. _

"_Do you think it's still safe?" Imm asked his brother._

_Laim considered their squirrelly little human for a minute. "I don't know, but the potential for disaster is certainly there. Did we create a monster?"_

"_The psychosis was already there," Imm shook his head, "but I'm sure our meddling agitated his obsessive nature." He sighed in frustration. "We were doing so well, brother-mine, but I think this plays too close to the edge of danger for us to continue."_

"_Agreed," Laim replied slowly, "but I think the damage is already done."_

_They both spared a nervous glance at the jittery human._

"_The amulet-Jareth would be in little danger; it's not as though magic can be harmed," Laim continued._

"_But Sarah can," Imm finished for him._

_The Twins grimaced. _

"_We finally have ourselves a sister," Laim said with a measure of self-disgust, "and our first major order of business as older brothers is to sic a psychopathic stalker on her."_

* * *

A lump rose in Sarah's throat, tears trying to flood her eyes. She was in the kitchen, snuffling quietly over her habitual breakfast of coffee and toast. In her heart she had been hoping that routine would take her mind off her dreams as well as what had greeted her upon awakening, but her mechanical movements had only given her more time to think.

She had awakened on her side, swathed in warm blankets and wrapped in an embrace that mirrored what she had only just felt in her dream. The princely Jareth's strong arms banded her waist, one hand placed soothingly to her back, while her face rested against his chest. It was both comforting to know that they hurt together and heartbreaking to remember _why_ they hurt. A chasm stretched between her and the Goblin King, a gaping hole that they had both created but neither knew how to fill. She had driven the man insane, but he had betrayed her; they both knew they couldn't trust the other, yet they were drawn together like magnets. They were an odd couple, perhaps even a _bad_ couple, but a couple all the same; Fate seemed to have marked them for each other, and there was little they could do to change that.

Sarah sniffled and wiped at a few escaping tears as she stared blankly at her breakfast. She could no longer ignore a very simple fact that had been staring at her quite plainly for the past day: the Jareth in her apartment wasn't the Jareth she wanted. His company was genial, when he wasn't going out of his way to frustrate her, and she certainly found him attractive; he even had many of the same mannerisms, but he wasn't the otherworldly king that she had glimpsed those five years ago. When she had woken up he hadn't mentioned anything about the dream, hadn't seemed effected by it at all and she'd come to the conclusion that he simply wasn't _enough_ of Jareth to have shared in it. The Twins had made him look and act like a young Jareth, but at heart he was nothing more than pure magic, a part of the Goblin King but not truly the King himself; the man she really wanted was Underground.

It was a sobering thought. She could play and love with the young prince, but he was really nothing more than a very cunning, self-aware illusion; he had thoughts and feelings, but he was only a small fraction of the overall man, given a form he hadn't been meant to take.

Something big was about to happen today, Sarah thought as she idly shredded her toast. The air felt charged with an anxious tension and an uneasy hush that was waiting for the perfect moment to break into action. It wasn't just her riotous thoughts, or even the unease and the melancholy that her dreams had brought on; something had the hair at the back of her neck standing on end. The feeling made her nervous, like those eerily quiet moments before a hellish storm. Clouds were looming in her future, but she had no idea where they would come from.

_

* * *

Leshia had finally finished lambasting him over his fondness for brandy and had wandered off to do whatever it was she did when she thought her husband wasn't looking. Oran was grateful for the reprieve, but only marginally._

_He often liked to think that he'd been a wise and benevolent king, but the truth was that every monarch made mistakes and bad decisions over the course of their reign. Oran had been no more immune to controversy than any other king. Once upon a time, he hadn't been all that different from Jareth; he had learned manipulation at his father's knee, and so Jareth had learned it at his. Oran, too, had been prone to selfish and hedonistic actions, prone to leading himself down paths that he regretted every moment thereafter. _

_There were two things he regretted above all others, and both were currently sitting before him. Jareth rested, pale and immobile, in a sea of blankets, and Oran regretted that he hadn't taught his son to be more cautious, to have more respect for the sensibilities and unspoken rights of others. His own father had never bothered to teach him those lessons—a king was answerable to no one—but Oran had learned them over time. Perhaps that was the problem; by the time he had understood those principles himself, he had already begun to enter his twilight years. Jareth was only just entering the prime of his life but, if he lived through this ordeal, his children would undoubtedly get some important lectures on the subject. _

_An hourglass also sat before him. It was small and unobtrusive, made of ebony wood, clear glass, and bright silver sand. It looked absolutely unextraordinary in all ways but one: the sand was frozen in place, despite the fact that a large portion of it remained in the top-most bulb. For centuries Oran had avoided this hourglass, had cursed himself for creating it. It had been dark back in those days, however, and in a moment of torturous uncertainty he had given in to the impulse. Jareth had been but a babe, a bright ray of hope for him and Leshia, but Oran had already lost two before him; he'd been crazed with grief and cynicism, wanting to hope and yet not knowing if his heart could stand to lose any more. The hourglass had sprung to his fingertips, a devilish creation that let him see what sort of time his boy's future held. At first it had been an unparalleled relief but, as the centuries went past and he began to realize that the sand slowed down a bit with every year, it had become more of a worry than a blessing. He'd been a damned fool for making the hourglass, and a doubly damned fool for not helping his son when he'd been given all the warnings. The problem was that he hadn't known what the danger was going to be. What could slow the march of Jareth's life without killing him? That question had tortured him for ages._

_Now he knew._

* * *

It was with great trepidation and embarrassment that Sarah slunk into the library that day. She had tried to sneak out of the apartment on her own, hopes high for success since Jareth had been strangely insightful and given her space to think, but the moment she had approached the door he had appeared at her side. A black, collared shirt graced his form, the sleeves rolled up and the tails untucked; human clothes for a human world. She hadn't bothered to argue with him, he'd had a glint in his eye that suggested trying would be nothing short of futile, but she knew what the picture they painted looked like to her co-workers. Yesterday morning she had been a frigid bookworm; by the afternoon she had become a good girl with a bad secret. Now she was returning to work, her 'boyfriend' in tow. If she had had any hopes of downplaying the gossip that had begun the day before, Jareth had destroyed any chance of that simply by accompanying her.

It was kind of sad that the man only had to show up in her general vicinity to make her co-workers curious. He would do more than that though, because he had already proven that he loved to cause trouble; she had no doubt that he would use the shield of 'boyfriend' to get away with as much mischief as possible.

"Why couldn't you just stay home?" she hissed quietly, ducking into the stacks to get away from speculative stares.

"I already told you," Jareth replied calmly, following her at an easy pace, "you can't survive being out of my presence for too long. The magic within you demands sustenance; without it, the magic will burn up the energy in your body until there's nothing left."

She didn't want to believe him, he wasn't exactly a trustworthy person, but something in his words rang true. She had heard the real Jareth say something like that before, hadn't she?

"Besides," he continued, tone turning dark, "I don't like the idea of you alone where that Leo creep could show up."

Sarah snorted, laughing for the first time that day. "Jealous, Jareth?" she asked sweetly.

He gave her a chillingly blank stare. Something nasty was lurking behind those bright blue eyes, but he was hiding it from her.

"I'll grant that Leo can be kind of intense," she finally said, "but he's not dangerous. Like I said, he's my friend; I trust him."

Jareth's eyes remained strangely emotionless, but he bowed his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment. He never stopped following her though.

_

* * *

Oran had consigned himself to spend the rest of the morning next to Jareth, lost in the shadows of the past, but fate had finally smiled upon him. He'd heard the Twins arguing together in the corridor and had managed to pull his dear sons into the room with him. They wouldn't be going back Above unless he dropped dead on the spot._

"_You don't understand," Imm continued to argue, frustration clearly coloring his voice._

"_I understand well enough," Oran cut him off. "You're meddling in things that are none of your business."_

"_Family," Laim said quietly, "is always our business. You taught us that."_

_Oran rubbed a hand over his eyes. "These are tricky days, my boys," he stated on a sigh. "I understand how painful it is to do nothing, but we cannot violate Jareth's contract without severe consequences."_

"_We aren't violating anything," Imm replied with a shrug._

"_We checked," Laim added. "But we've met with an unexpected complication that demands immediate action. If you don't let us go back now, father, there will be trouble."_

_Oran shook his head. "I stand firm. If you really wanted to fix this problem, you shouldn't have come back Underground. Now that you're here, I suggest we spend a riveting morning glowering at each other."_

* * *

Sarah's fingers flew over the keyboard, typing as rapidly as she could. She was sitting at a computer behind one of the smaller help desks, Jareth not quite in sight but she could hear the quiet murmur of the conversation that he was entrenched in with one of her fellow librarians; she was torn between being thankful his focus was elsewhere and being worried about what he might be saying. Still, the moment to herself was appreciated.

It didn't last long, though.

A shadow fell over her keyboard, startling Sarah out of her work. Glancing up, she had to stifle a gasp. Leo was regarding her quietly, which was not unusual, but he looked an absolute mess; his hair was disheveled, his clothes were wrinkled, and his face was pale and a bit pinched. She couldn't help but think that he looked like he was coming down with a cold or something.

"Are you feeling all right, Leo?" she asked with a little frown. "You look a bit… under the weather."

He swayed on the spot a little, his eyes unfocused, before he shook his head. "Honestly, I don't feel so great," he replied, a strange note in his voice. "I had a bad night."

"You should have stayed home then," she chastised. Sometimes it seemed as though he had all the sense of a child.

"I didn't want to miss out on our daily conversations," he swayed some more, "but now I'm thinking it wasn't such a great idea."

She watched him as he rocked from side to side, looking like a man fight a fierce wind. In the back of her mind she admitted that Leo was one of those clingy friends that she liked but sometimes didn't want to be around; still, he looked ill and that concerned her. "You need to go home," she said, standing up from her desk. "Come on, let me help you to your car. Do you think you'll be okay to drive, or should we call you a cab?" she asked, linking her arm through his as she steered him toward the exit.

His eyes were unfocused again, but he managed to mumble out, "I can drive," so she let the issue drop.

Something strange happened as they weaved their way further and further from the stacks. Her skin seemed to prickle and the hair at the back of her neck stood on end, as though the moment she could no longer hear the low rumble of Jareth's voice her entire body went on alert. Leo was acting strange, not at all like the thoughtful companion that he usually was, and something about that suddenly seemed sinister. She tried to tell herself that nothing was wrong, that she was just feeling edgy because it had been a strange morning, but the feeling persisted. The longer she held onto Leo, the more it felt as though he was the one holding onto her, that there was a bit of steeliness to his grip belying his supposed illness.

Or he was so dizzy that he needed her help to stay upright.

Sarah kept telling herself that, repeating it like a mantra, right up to the point that Leo pushed her up against the side of his car. He still looked pale and unfocused, but now he was angry too, his hands pinned roughly around her forearms.

"How could you choose that blond playboy over me, Sarah?" Leo asked shrilly. "What can he give you that I can't?"

"What?" she asked in blank horror, flinching when his fingers tightened cruelly around her arms.

"I though we were friends, Sarah," he continued as though she hadn't spoken, "I thought we really understood each other."

"So did I," she murmured, astonished. He had obviously lost his ever-loving mind. She had thought that Jareth had just been acting jealous, but maybe he had disliked Leo for a more immediate reason: the man was insane. How could she have missed that? Was she really _that_ _bad_ a judge of character?

"Well, obviously we don't," Leo snapped, leaning in until he was whispering into her ear. "Who is he, Sarah?" he asked with gentle hatred. When she didn't answer he let go of one arm and fumbled for something in his coat pocket.

Sarah hadn't struggled in that whole time because some part of her had kind of been hoping that the whole ordeal had been a horribly misguided joke, but the knife she saw flashing in his hand changed that. She jerked, using her free hand to scratch at his throat while she kicked out at his shins. But Leo didn't flinch, and his eyes looked so hazy that she had to wonder if he even felt the pain at all.

Why wasn't anyone coming to help her? It wasn't like they were in a dark alley or somewhere extremely out of the way; the library parking lot sat along the side of a busy road in the middle of town.

She started to breathe in deep to let out the mother of all screams, but his hand clapped over her mouth before she could muster enough air. His face loomed in close to hers, the knife waving in front of her eyes threateningly, and he whispered, "What makes that blond bastard better than me?"

"Well, for one, I've never pulled a knife on the lady," Jareth's voice floated out on the wind.

Sarah had a brief moment in which to be relieved at her rescue; then the world went black. At first she thought she'd been knocked out, or possibly even stabbed, but when vivid lightning ripped open the sky she understood that the world really _had_ gone dark. The wind began to pick up as another bolt of lightning sizzled across the heavens, slapping the world with light before plunging it back into the preternatural darkness. Fallen leaves skittered past her feet, chittering along the ground like goblins. That thought froze the air in her lungs, made her remember; she had seen a storm like this before. Not five years ago, but ten.

Jareth rose up out of the darkness like a vengeful god. From head to toe he was drenched in black: black boots, black pants, black armored breastplate, black horned shoulder-guards, black gloves, black cloak. It gave off the disturbing impression that, between the frequent flashes of lightning, only his pale head existed, the rest of him nothing more than an ominous shadow. He looked older as well; no longer her princely houseguest, but not yet the Goblin King she knew, either. His anger vibrated in the air around them, and Sarah was suddenly struck with the thought that this was not Jareth who had led her through the Labyrinth, but the Jareth who had _created_ the Labyrinth.

Anger, so much anger.

In front of her, Leo shivered violently, bleating out nonsense like a scared child, but he still kept his heavy hold on her arm, his grip not hindered in the slightest by the sudden, drenching rain.

The lightning stopped, the world held permanently in its blindness, but the thunder continued, great booming noises that came from nowhere. Above the monstrous roaring, though, she could still hear the sure footfalls of booted feet, still felt Leo's body wrenched away from her own, still heard the distinctive hollow-clanking of a metal blade hitting pavement.

As if the whole world had been waiting for that single sound, the thunder receded and the light came back, but the wind still whipped around angrily and the rain continued to fall. Jareth stood before her; his face was emotionless, but his eyes burned with a cold rage. He was one provocation away from becoming truly bestial, and that thought scared her.

Leo was nowhere to be seen, but his knife lay—cracked in half—at her feet. "What did you do with him?" she asked quietly.

"Do you really want to know?" Jareth asked, merciless eyes watching her carefully.

She didn't answer because, truthfully, she _wasn't_ sure if she wanted to know. They stood silent in the pouring rain, regarding each other carefully.

"Enough of this," he snarled, frustration clearly evident in his voice.

And just like that they were out of the rain and back in the semi-cozy confines of her apartment.

Sarah sank into a boneless heap on her sofa, her attention focused on the pacing Jareth. His clothes had seemed intimidating before—and to an extent they still did, what with his midnight cloak flaring dramatically behind him—but now they seemed ridiculously out of place in her mundane home.

"What if I hadn't been there?" he finally growled, turning to face her.

"He wouldn't have flipped out in the first place," she answered snidely, irritated that her fear of his intense reactions to danger was still lingering.

"I'm being serious," he snapped.

She bared her teeth in a growl of her own. "So am I."

"It didn't have to me to set him off, but your damn lucky it was because he looked about ready to," he cut himself off, clenching his jaw over whichever colorful way had been about to say 'stab you'.

Sarah stood up, forcing herself closer to him, close enough to lay a hand against his pale cheek. "What did you do with him, Jareth?" she asked again, curiosity overriding common sense.

Jareth's eyes flashed and a deep-chested growl rumbled through him. "You trusted him," he accused, "and he betrayed that."

"It's nothing you haven't done before," she replied sadly. "Maybe I'm just an awful judge of character.

He jerked away from her, hurt and acknowledgment glittering in his eyes. "I've never threatened you with a weapon before."

"No," she agreed, "just with the well-being of those I love."

Something in him snapped at the world 'love' and came screaming violently to the surface. The cold rage and determination blazed in his narrowed eyes once more, and he slowly pulled further away from her, stopping only once he reached her low coffee table. The hourglass sat serenely on the table, its black sand frozen in time. Gently, he picked it up and studied it. "Seven hours and thirty-eight minutes left," he said at length, continuing to study the trinket. "Oran froze it in place, but I wonder if he ever fully understood the spells that I wove around this little treasure."

Time spun out in slow motion as Sarah watched Jareth open his hand and let the hourglass tumble from his grasp. She watched it plummet gracefully, end over end, until it hit the solid flooring. The wooden frame splintered, the glass of the bottom bulb exploded outward in a spray of tiny shards, and the broken timepiece bled black sand at Jareth's feet.

"Oops," he said in a voice that was a potent mixture of anger, sarcasm, and spite.

And, for the second time that day, her world went black, only this time she really had fainted.

* * *

A/N: References from Dramatic Orchestrations- the silver sand hourglass is from the beginning of chapter forty-one. Jareth's violent years (the years in which he created and perfected the Labyrinth) spanned from the end of chapter three to the beginning of chapter nine.

Sorry for the massive delay on this chapter, guys! It went a little something like this: The Never Series, writers' block, epic amounts of laundry and grocery shopping, two papers, two tests, a third paper, midterms, and a very strange waffling cold that won't go away.

So I guess I owe everyone an apology about my note from last chapter. Please understand: I was _not_ chastising! I was just very concerned that the noticeable drop in reviews was due to something that I had done, or hadn't done. Believe me, I understand that life is hectic and things have a way of springing up at the last moment (as evidenced above). I wasn't asking for an explanation of absence, merely if there was something in the writing that wasn't appealing. I'm very sorry if I offended anyone (and I know I did, seeing as how defensive some reviewers got); all the same, some of you took that opportunity to lash out at me and my work for a question that I posed in genuine curiosity. I deeply regret that I may have hurt some feelings, but let's not turn this into a war of retaliation.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: I own a myriad of side-characters, but nothing recognizable as having come from Labyrinth. I give nods to Terry Pratchett's Diskworld Series, because my hourglasses are starting to rip-off his lifetimers (though it's not exactly an original idea… still).


	11. Remembered Warnings

Chapter Eleven: Remembered Warnings

Sarah's mind floated through the hazy world that existed just outside of consciousness. She wasn't happy to be there; truth be told, she was pretty damn pissed that she'd fainted in the first place. She'd rarely ever fainted in her entire life, but when her hourglass had shattered, darkness had risen up to claim her. It was an odd thing to faint over really, Sarah reflected, but something was niggling at the back of her mind. She's been told something about the hourglass once, hadn't she?

The silhouette of a young man floated up from her memory. _"A warning,"_ he had breathed out, _"a warning not to break."_

Sarah had raised an eyebrow, confused then but suddenly fearing that she now knew what he had been trying to tell her. _"Not to break what?"_

_The phantom drew closer and turned his head in all directions, as though looking for eavesdroppers. "Not to break contract," he lifted a wispy finger, and the image of a scroll appeared just above him. "Not to break glass," the scroll changed to reflect the image of her hourglass. "Never break glass," he shivered as his illusion splintered and sent imaginary shards flying everywhere. For a moment he stared at the tiny chips of magic, then seemed to collect himself. The other shadows had started watching at this point, and he seemed to hesitate at what he had to say next. "Not to break King," this time the illusion really did shatter, bits of chaotic magic imbedding itself wherever it could, and the others gasped, standing still and frightened. "Never break King," he whimpered. The pieces of energy that had not yet found homes began twisting together, forming a tiny maze in midair. "Or terrible things come again."_

Sarah wanted to scream in frustration. At the time, the boy's warnings had been like riddles to her, but now that most of those events had come to pass she knew what they had meant. The contract and the hourglass were entwined, though she still didn't know to what extent; she only knew that by breaking one, the other had been broken as well. What was happening now was unclear as well; what had the princely Jareth hoped to achieve by breaking the hourglass, and what was going to happen to her because of it?

One thing was frightening clear, though. Jareth had broken apart in the past. "Never break King," the boy had said, "or terrible things come _again_." It had happened before, but why? No one, aside from the silhouette, had mentioned it to her; did that mean Jareth had managed to piece himself back together before his family had had a chance to notice? That thought lifted her heart a little; if he had managed to fix himself once then there was hope for him now.

But then why, in the last five years, had he not made an attempt to do so?

Sarah floated deeper into the blackness, weary, frustrated, and just a little bit scared.

_

* * *

Oran jerked to his feet in shock. Adrenaline had surged through him when the world had begun to distort; normally, he wouldn't have considered it unusual, but paternal instincts came to screaming life when an unknown factor entered the room where all three of his children were, one of whom could not protect himself. Shock quickly turned into confused amazement when the air stopped rippling enough to reveal an unconscious Sarah, then turned immediately to anger when he saw the fragment of Jareth that was holding her._

_He rounded on Imm and Laim, who shrank from him slightly, but did not back down._

"_There was a problem," Laim glared._

"_And we solved it," Imm shrugged._

_Oran clenched his jaw, thinking of the hundreds of horrifying ways that their plan, whatever it had been, could have gone wrong. As things stood, what with Sarah laying slack in the other Jareth's arms and the slightly uneasy look that had entered the Twins eyes, Oran had a feeling that things hadn't gone smoothly. "Pray that your scheme was well played, because it's Sarah who will suffer the consequences of poor planning," he growled. _

_Imm opened his mouth, but Oran held up a hand. "I want no explanations," he stated, turning to Sarah. "I understand why you did it even as I'm enraged over the fact that you did. But what's done is done," he took the girl into his own arms, holding her gently as he moved to the door. "I'll leave damage control up to you," he said, then left the room._

_

* * *

Imm and Laim regarded the amulet-Jareth warily. From head to toe, the man before them was drenched in black and midnight blue armor: metal and leather and magic. His anger snapped in the air around them, filling the room with restlessness, while something mean and untamed glinted in his eyes, chilling both boys to the core. This wasn't the image they had created. Their illusion had mutated, infused itself with a different set of Jareth's memories; it had gone from the carefree and fun-loving Jareth that they had known in their youth to the war-hungry and blood-lusting Jareth that had created the Labyrinth and the Underground in an unadulterated fit of long-lasting rage. _

_Imm and Laim both loved their brother more than anything else, but even they were afraid of the young King. _

"_I wasn't sure what you two were playing at," Jareth finally spoke, "but I had my suspicions after this cretin showed up at Sarah's door." Leo appeared at his feet, battered and unconscious. "I understand why you did it... But, my dear little Princes," he said, drawing in close and blithely ignoring their respective flinches, "I am not at all pleased."_

"_In our own defense," Imm replied quietly, "if we had known that there was something wrong with the human, that he posed any sort of danger to Sarah, we never would have involved him."_

_Laim nodded gently. "We only wanted to help."_

_Jareth regarded both of them for several intensely uncomfortable moments, but whatever decision he reached never showed on his face. Leo vanished silently as Jareth turned to the door. "If you'll excuse me, brothers" he said, halfway out the room, "I think I'd like to give Mr. Knight a personal tour of the older reaches of my Labyrinth."_

"_Wait!" Laim called quickly. "What happened?" he asked. "How did you change?"_

_Jareth turned around and silently regarded his comatose counterpart, eyes flitting over the bed-ridden and wasting image of the original. "You forget," he said quietly, "that, despite the fact that you were the ones to create this form, it is still a part of Jareth, and any part of Jareth can become a vessel for the real thing."_

_Imm pointed at the bed's occupant. "You mean you're really him?"_

_Jareth nodded, "More or less, but you must understand that my mind is adrift in time. The amulet-illusion that you created was frightened and enraged when he saw Leo holding a knife to Sarah, so he called upon whatever strength I had to give; fortunately, my mind happened to be back in the early days of my reign, so I was able to respond… appropriately." The Twins both began to grin, marveling at the shear mechanics of it, but Jareth held up a hand. "I can't hold this connection for very long," he warned then turned to the door again._

"_Wait!" This time Imm stopped him. "How do we fix this? We don't know what to do, Jareth." he gestured vaguely around the room._

_Jareth didn't turn around. "I think you do," he replied quietly. "You two have been putting broken things back together since before you could talk. When the time comes, you'll know what to do. But it will ultimately be up to Sarah to get things started."_

_Imm and Laim watched him disappear down the hall, fascinated with the brief, albeit anachronistic, appearance of their brother. Their short conversation had been like a lost letter that had finally been delivered: comforting and painful, promising and tragic. They both knew that there was no line they weren't willing to cross for their brother, but their part was already done. It was all up to Sarah now._

_

* * *

Oran sighed when he saw Amyl visibly startle. The butler was tall and somber, his chestnut colored hair always pulled back to emphasize the ram's horns that framed his head. He had served at Castle Aryn for countless years and had then moved on to serve at the Castle of K'shent Mier as well as the Castle beyond the Goblin City, depending on where Jareth was. He was a dear family friend, but at his very heart he was always a butler: calm and unmovable._

_Yet he looked shaken at the sight of Sarah nestled in Oran's arms. _

"_Prepare a room," Oran requested quietly. "The Lady needs somewhere to rest."_

_Amyl looked as though he were about to ask what had happened, then pulled himself together. With his impassive mask back in place once more, he replied, "It is already done."_

_Oran's brow furrowed in confusion. "When?"_

"_Years ago, in fact," Amyl replied sadly._

_His eyes snapped shut, weary and sad all at once. "Show me," he said quietly._

_Amyl nodded but, uncharacteristically, hesitated for a second. "Is she really back?" he asked, gesturing to the unconscious woman._

_Oran snorted. "Doubtlessly not by choice, but yes, she is back."_

* * *

Sarah moaned, desperately trying to fight her way to consciousness. She was surrounded by a preternatural blackness, deeper than a normal fainting spell, as though she were being forced to stay unconscious. The blackness wrapped around her, cocooning but not particularly comforting.

_

* * *

Oran silently regarded the suite of rooms that Amyl had led him to. They were, strangely enough, in the same wing as Jareth's own, but not on the same floor. One floor above his eldest boy's lofty apartments was a spectacle of comfort rather than wealth or power. A cozy sitting room led into a high-ceilinged bedroom, both done up in earthy greens and tones of gentle blue; thick carpets and polished woods balanced the charming simplicity of a few framed watercolor paintings. Little knick-knacks peeked out from various places: an interesting book here, a curious decoration there. The rooms weren't completely devoid of Jareth's abiding sense hedonism—the bed linens and curtains could be no less than velvet and lace and, though most of the furniture was wooden, they were all stained dark and polished to a gleaming brilliance—but this one suite had been constructed with a gentler touch. His sole intent had been to create a welcome space for Sarah._

"_It was never quite finished," Amyl broke the silence. He began to bustle about, turning down sheets, lighting a fire in the stone grate, and pulling the curtains closed. "We were going to bring some bookshelves and a desk into the sitting room, but," he broke off and shook his head, "we thought we would have more time. And afterward…"_

"_There didn't seem to be any reason to," Oran finished for him, knowing that these unfinished rooms had been a daily reminder to the butler that his king and friend was dying, that the final hours of Sarah's visit had irrevocably changed all their lives._

"_Yes," the horned man agreed quietly, pale for a moment._

_Gently, Oran settled the girl onto the bed. "I want her well taken care of, Amyl," he said firmly, his gaze lingering on the woman that none of them had truly ever expected to see again. "If any of your staff has a problem with that, they can take it to me, but I will not have her the subject of callous reception."_

_Amyl raised a brow. "I can appreciate your concern, but I must say that I am insulted by your implication."_

_He shrugged. "Not everyone has the desire or ability to be understanding; they know only that their king has become an invalid and they must lie to the entire kingdom about it. Some, I dare say, might even be bitter."_

"_But her fault was purely circumstantial," the butler interjected. "The Lady did only what she felt was right."_

"_You and I know that, Amyl," Oran sighed, "but do the chambermaids know? How about the footmen and cooks and groundskeepers, do they know? I fear they don't, and the situation is difficult enough without having to worry about a petty and misguided sense of revenge."_

_The somber servant nodded slightly. "You will find nothing amiss where the young lady is concerned, this I swear to you," he replied then, as was his wont, left the room in an eerily silent fashion._

_Oran turned to the girl. If her face hadn't been so shockingly blank, he would have just guessed that she was sleeping. Distantly, he regretted having ignored the Twins' attempt at explaining; now that his anger had cooled, he was curious to know what had happened. "It's never really your choice, is it, Sarah?" the former king reflected quietly. "The Underground calls and you are unable to do anything but answer it."_

_

* * *

Jareth cocked his head to the side as he stoically regarded the whimpering mortal before him. Leo Knight had already been broken of mind and battered of body, so there was little that the Labyrinth could really do to him._

_Aside from one thing._

_Jareth had let later expansions of the Labyrinth grow on their own—by then his rage had begun to bury itself and his attention had waned—but the oldest, deepest parts had been lovingly crafted. Originally it had been a defensive structure, but it had been built to stand against battle-hardened and world-weary soldiers. It took immense pressure to disturb men with such blatantly jaded hearts. But he had, and it was by those very same means that he now rid himself of the stunningly unbalanced Mr. Knight. Ensconced deeply within the heart of the true Labyrinth, he had allowed the mortal to wander for a while. His time in the borrowed illusion was short, however—he could feel every second pulling him back to abyss of his own body—so he had led the man to the flower garden._

_The flower garden always looked innocent enough—exotic and colorful blooms mixing artfully with more common wildflowers—until it had fresh prey, that it. Vines and tendrils had wrapped around the mortal, adhering to his skin like a vile glue. Almost immediately, dark purple and black flowers had begun to bloom along his length, each one holding a vision for the captive Leo, a vision of some desperate dream that was about to be cruelly warped. The garden had broken proud men the likes of which hadn't been seen in centuries; for an already disturbed man like Leo… Well, the torture would continue long after what was left of him had shattered._

_When Jareth was finally forced to relinquish his hold on the amulet's illusion, it was with a fiercely triumphant smile on his face._

* * *

Through the darkness, Sarah felt the amulet heat up and settle against her in a heavy weight. She wasn't sure how she knew it, but somehow she simply knew that the vision of Prince Jareth that Imm and Laim had created had been called back within the amulet. The heavy weight sent warmth coursing through her, waking up limbs that had refused to acknowledge her desires to move. With immense relief, she opened her eyes.

Then immediately slammed them shut again.

"It's been a wicked day for us all, I'd wager," Oran soothed from somewhere above her.

She had expected, for some crazy reason, to find herself in her apartment, possibly even still on her floor if Jareth had been feeling particularly spiteful. What she hadn't expected was to find herself surrounded by a room straight out of her fondest fantasies and being watched over by the father of the man that she had nearly murdered.

Sarah curled in on herself, ignoring Oran, and briefly considered throwing the covers over her head. "I'm just doomed to repeat history over and over again, aren't I?"

**

* * *

Note to Silvera**: I hate to single you out like this, but you didn't leave me any way to contact you. I just wanted to explain that the reason you feel like there are plot holes in this story is because it's a sequel. If you haven't already, you really need to go read the first story, Dramatic Orchestrations.

* * *

A/N: Your author recently had a near-death experience, wherein she was literally six inches away from getting squished by a truck, because the driver of that vehicle was apparently on crack.

References to Dramatic Orchestrations: The italic text in Sarah's first section was taken out of chapter 17. K'shent Mier (which I've already mentioned once or twice) was from chapter 16. Amyl was from chapter 33 and 35.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Jareth, Sarah, or the Underground.


	12. Reunion

Chapter Twelve: Reunion.

As the phone rang for the third time, Karen experienced a moment of dread. Upon hearing the voice that greeted her from the other end, she decided that she should have followed her instincts and let the machine get it.

"Karen, _darling_! How _are_ you? It's Linda!" As if she wouldn't recognize the overly chipper sound of Miss Linda Williams.

It wasn't that Karen resented Robert's first wife and her continued influence over their family, it was just that dealing with Linda was trying. For the longest time Karen hadn't understood why Sarah had been so difficult and intensely emotional during her teenage years; one meeting with her mother had cleared all that up. At 45 years of age, Linda was self-centered and oblivious to the world around her, sometimes even childishly cruel if it helped her get what she wanted. Add in the fact that the woman had an innate tendency to over dramatize everything, and it really all left Karen, an emotionally reserved sort of woman under normal circumstances, very uncomfortable.

Karen took a fortifying breath. "I'm fine, Linda. How are you?"

She ignored the question completely, instead replying, "I was wondering if you could give me the number of Sarah's boyfriend."

"Excuse me?" Karen stumbled for a moment, dread once again lacing her.

Linda hummed in exasperation. "I'm in town, you see, and I wanted to get together with my little lamb. I went to her library but she'd already gone, and when I tried calling her, the silly phone just rang right off the hook. So I was wondering if you might have the number for her boyfriend."

"Who's to say she has a boyfriend?" she asked stiffly.

"Well simply everyone at the library is buzzing about it! Tall, blond, and charming they said, completely enamored with my girl," the other woman laughed joyously.

Karen squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Tall, blond, and charming? One man came to mind in an instant and, while it was entire possible that she was jumping to conclusions, something in her felt that history was starting to repeat itself. Oh yes, Sarah's _boyfriend_ was definitely charming, but only when he chose to be. "They're abroad," she said quietly. "I doubt you could reach them."

Her heart felt sick. When Leshia had appeared in her home and talked of fixing things, it had given her hope, but she had foolishly assumed that Sarah wouldn't have to leave them for a while; now she knew, deep in her bones, that her step-daughter was in that strange other-world again.

"Well that's horribly inconsiderate of them," Linda sounded shocked, "it's not often I come to visit."

"Perhaps you should have called in advance, then," Karen murmured before quietly hanging up, her mind elsewhere. She was willing to accept that all of their lives were about to get complicated again, but one thing was bothering her.

If Jareth was "insensible", as Leshia had said, then how had he managed come into contact with Sarah at all?

_

* * *

A strange feeling stole over Leshia as she entered Jareth's room. Nothing was out of place, though. The Twins were sitting in a corner, playing a card game that she was fairly certain they were making up as they went along, and Jareth lay unmoving upon his bed. Something was different, though, she just couldn't place her finger on it._

_Her eyes narrowed on Jareth._

* * *

Oran regarded her curiously, and Sarah could feel her face turning red. What were you supposed to say to a man who had showed you every possible kindness, right before you went and drove his eldest son insane? Living with Karen and being subjected to the occasional visit from her own mother had taught Sarah how to handle social stresses with relative ease; they had never covered anything like this, though.

Was Oran angry with her? Should she apologize? And what exactly would she apologize for? At least half of this mess was Jareth's fault.

"Are you all right, my dear?" Oran finally asked, breaking the silence.

The abrupt question startled her into an inarticulate, "Huh?"

He stood from his chair to come a bit closer, settling at the edge of her bed. "You haven't spoken or even moved since you first woke up; I assume you're either very stunned, very confused, very hurt, or all three. So I shall ask again: are you all right, Sarah?"

She raised herself into a sitting position, moving slowly in order to give herself time to think. "I'll admit to shocked and confused," she finally answered. "As for hurt, not yet, no."

He was quiet for a moment. "I see," Oran murmured with a sad shake of his head, "not that I blame you for it; were I in your position I'd be quite terrified of how I'd be treated. Know this, dear girl: you have nothing to fear from us."

"With all due respect, sir," she replied, "I fear your son more than I fear you."

"That's not an unwise decision," he nodded. "Jareth is powerful and unpredictable, he's fiercely loyal but has a tendency to react to any sort of danger with brutal exaction. That makes him dangerous, more so than _any_ of our kind; fearing him is quite natural, I daresay he's even come to expect it."

"That's awfully sad," she said lowly, more to herself than Oran.

He nodded again. "I won't make you face him, Sarah. That decision is yours, and yours alone. If you find yourself too shaken to see him, you don't have to."

Sarah was both touched by his offer and insulted by the fact that he had even made it. "He's horrifying at times, you know; he respects the personal boundaries of others only when it's convenient for him, and he doesn't care about morality when it comes to his powers. More than that, though, he's an overbearing egotist who can't stand it when things don't go his way; he's funny and unruly and utterly frustrating." She shrugged. "But that's what makes him Jareth, and I'd prefer to have all of him, scary parts and all, than not to have any of him."

Oran smiled. "I insulted you just now, didn't I?"

She shyly returned his smile. "Just a bit."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that you've decided to take the bad with the good because, heaven knows, there's an awful lot of darkness in that boy. Would you like to see him now?" He stood, offering his hand out to her.

"Yes," she replied instantly, "but first I have a question. How did I get here?"

* * *

Karen's hand shook as she careful placed her coffee cup back on the table. Normally, frustration merely made her a bit snappish and sharp-tongued, but today she wouldn't allow herself to show it.

She had never minded when Linda came to visit Sarah—after all, a girl did have a right to see her mother—but having Miss Williams in Karen's parlour was pushing the limits of her civil behavior. It was one thing to know that the woman was seeing her child, it was quite another to have to deal with the woman herself. She watched as Linda flirted with her ex-husband, batting her eyelashes and giggling girlishly, and Karen knew if she allowed herself to speak she would only end up saying something rude. The only thing that was really stopping her was the fact that Robert looked distinctly uncomfortable by the attention and at having his wife and ex-wife in the same room.

"Oh, darling," Linda cooed, breaking Karen out of her thoughts, "come in! Let us get a good look at you."

Toby was frozen in the doorway, his blue eyes focused on Linda, assessing, judging. He had met Miss Williams a few times before, but never when Sarah hadn't been around to influence his opinion. He moved into the room slowly, his gaze briefly flashing over the entire room before settling back on the woman before him.

Linda held out her hands for him. "You'll be a strapping man, indeed. You're getting so big!"

Toby stared at her hands for a moment before taking them into his own, but he held them as though studying something suspicious rather than clasping hands with an obnoxiously affectionate woman. "So have you," he replied with a child's brutal honesty. "Have you been gaining weight?"

"Toby!" Karen burst in shock and guilt. Shock because Toby had never before been so obviously rude to a guest—albeit an uninvited one—and guilty because she was holding in a laugh at Linda's obvious embarrassment.

"What?" he asked confusedly, though she could see the glint in his eyes. In less than a minute, Toby had successfully countered Linda's cruel game with a cruel game of his own.

"Oh, dear, that's all right," Linda fluttered, pasting a smile on her face, "children see things _differently_ from the rest of us."

"That's very true," Toby said readily, cutting Karen off before she could reply. "I'm sure what I see as you flirting with a married man is really only you being friendly. It's so _easy_ for children to get these things wrong," he chirped brightly.

Linda's cheeks heated and, for the first time in Karen's confused relationship with Robert's ex-wife, she could see the woman finally understand that she had met an opposing force who was not likely to ignore her strange and spoiled behavior. Anger burned in her eyes for a moment at the fact that her first worthy opponent in many years was a ten-year-old boy.

What she didn't realize, what no one had been willing or able to tell her, was that that young boy had the ability to channel an ethereal king. It wasn't just a ten-year-old she was trying to out-class, it was a ten-year-old with a grudge and an alter-ego that had who knew how many years of court life behind him.

* * *

"_Ah," Oran replied with a grimace, "I was afraid you'd ask that." _

_Sarah arched a brow, an action that was so very like his son that it briefly made him pause. He had known her for five years, but in all that time he had only really spent one day in the girl's company, not even a full day at that, and it suddenly struck him that he didn't know her as well as he wanted to assume. Oran knew humans, as a rule, since he had lived alongside them for many years, but he didn't know this girl specifically; this girl who had caught his son's heart, obsessed the boy's mind, was an enigma to him. He had offered her an escape that she refused to use, and now she was waiting for an answer that they both knew she wasn't going to like._

_Who was this woman that had punched her way into their lives, and what was it that made her different from other humans?_

_Oran gently lifted her sleeve until he revealed the tattoo on her arm: a braided circlet of silver, green, and gold woven across her bicep, the colors all coming to rest at an intricate blue J. "What did Jareth tell you of this?"_

"_He didn't, really," Sarah shrugged, "he just said it was a little bit of insurance on his part, to make sure that I repaid my thirteen hours."_

"_You'll have to help him work on his communication skills," he said with a roll of his eyes. "What Jareth meant was that this tattoo was meant to keep you from evading the consequences of a possible breach in contract."_

"_What do you mean?" she asked, furrowing her brows._

"_The contract could have been voided by breaking the hourglass," Oran replied, "that's where all the binding magic was, the very symbol of your agreement. So to prevent you from doing that he added in the tattoo, which was set to bring you straight Underground if that ever happened."_

_Sarah frowned a little harder. "But I wasn't the one who broke it, he was!"_

_Oran shrugged. "The whole sequence of events hinged on the simple act of breaking that hourglass; apparently it doesn't matter who broke it, so long as it was broken."_

_She seemed to struggle for a moment, then let out an explosive sigh. "I'll get angry about this later—like when he's actually capable of listening to me yell at him—right now I guess it would just be better to see how he's doing." She finally accepted his still outstretched hand._

_He helped her off the bed, then tucked her arm into his own. "Are you ready for this?" he asked before leading them out of the room._

"_Probably not," she admitted, "but, when it comes to Jareth, I never am."_

_Oran smiled. "I daresay he thinks the same about you."_

* * *

Sarah tried desperately to stifle her nerves. She knew the Twins weren't angry at her, and neither was Oran, so it seemed a bit unlikely that Leshia would be mad, but then it wasn't the family that she was worried about. For five years she had known what was happening to Jareth, had felt it through that strange connection they shared, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to see the reality of his condition.

Oran stood next to her, silent and patient as he watched her stare at the door that led into Jareth's room. They had been there for a couple of minutes now, and each second sent her anxiety higher. 'You've faced Jareth down under some pretty bad circumstances already, Sarah,' she rallied against herself, 'this is just another one of things you have to get through. Being a coward and glaring at the door isn't going to change that.' Abruptly, she was angry with herself; she _was_ being a coward and that was unacceptable. Finally resolved, she jerked the door open and stepped inside.

Imm, Laim, and Leshia all looked up from their card game in the corner of the room; the Twins smiled and offered her a pair of sheepish smiles while Leshia's crystal blue eyes widened in surprise. Sarah hardly noticed them, though; the room had grabbed her attention. Thick curtains were pulled over two massive windows, blocking all light from entering. The sitting room part of the suite was large and tastefully decorated in dark wood furniture. A blazing fireplace stood to her left, directly behind a desk. In the center of the room there were several chairs and a few love-seats scattered about, all surrounded by a combination of cabinets and end tables. To her right was an open archway that led to the bedroom proper. She had been in this bedroom once before, she realized with a jolt, but it had been dark then. Her slowly awakening powers had responded to the desires of the Goblin King, and somehow transported her to this very room while he'd been sleeping. It had been then, when she really thought about it, that their relationship had started to change, had become a little less like a competition and a little more like two people trying to figure out how to relate to each other.

And now she was back. What new changes were in store for her this time?

Sarah began to move cautiously toward the bed, dreading what she was about to see but knowing that she didn't have much of a choice if she wanted things to start heading in a positive direction. The sight that greeted her made her gasp.

Jareth certainly looked ill—paler than usual, a little wasted, and certainly not as though he were going to be moving anytime soon—but, she narrowed her eyes, he didn't look like he was dying. For five years she had held a picture of him in her mind, the wreck that she knew he had become, and while he definitely didn't look in top form right now, he didn't look anywhere near as bad as she had somehow known he would be. Sarah sat next to the bed and frowned as she watched the strong rise and fall of his chest; had she over dramatized things again?

Suddenly, she felt a strange shifting on his end of their empathic connection; she couldn't quite tell what it was, only that it was different from the increasingly chaotic tangle that his thoughts had been becoming. She reached out to smooth his hair away from his eyes, her heart a little confused at being back with him after so many long years. "It's an awful mess we made, isn't it?" she whispered, ignoring the quiet murmur of his family in the sitting room.

"I'm willing help clean it up if you are," Jareth murmured. Her throat tightened when he smiled, finally opening his icy blue eyes to look at her. "Hello, Sarah."

She smiled for a moment, then punched him in the shoulder and loudly warned, "Don't _ever_ do that again!"

* * *

A/N: Sorry to end it there, folks, but I've got studying to do.

It's the busy time of year now, with finals right around the corner and the holidays ready to pounce; I'm sorry for not replying to people's reviews like I normally do, but I've been pressed for time lately. That being said, I really just wanted to say **Thank You** to every one who asked how I am after almost getting run over by a truck. Your comments were all very kind and supportive. I'm fine, no injuries to speak of, though I was a little shaken up and plenty mad at first. Also, I just wanted to say sorry for not updating in a while. This story is very important to me, but this semester's been kind of crazy.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that actually came from Labyrinth. The side characters are mine, though.


	13. Puzzles

Chapter Thirteen: Puzzles.

"To what, exactly are you referring?" Jareth asked, rubbing his arm. "Losing control, omitting information, protecting you from a crazed stalker, messing with your little brother's head, or the arguing?" He stretched cautiously, then put his hands under his head. "It was the arguing, wasn't it?"

Sarah punched him again, slightly worried when he just laughed in response. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

His blue eyes focused on her, their depths reflecting something that she had only seen once before: madness. And a certain, troubling, sense of disconnectedness. "Okay?" he smiled. "No, probably not, but infinitely better than I have been." One of his hands caught her by the shoulder and pulled her close, but he didn't say anything, just studied her face as though he had forgotten what she looked like.

As the silence, punctuated here and there by a not-so-quiet whisper from his family in the other room, stretched into uncomfortable lengths, she asked, "What happened to the Prince?"

He smiled and lowered his hand to tap against the amulet that rested over her shirt. "When you were attacked I was able to use the fierceness of his emotions to establish a connection between the two bodies, but his form was only a cunning illusion created by the Twins and the energy that maintained it was burnt up. Part of him returned back to the amulet, the part that always lived within it, and the rest of him returned to me." Jareth tapped his forehead. "He's here now… somewhere."

His answer spoke volumes; so much of him was within easy reach, and yet somehow lost. The power that had been housed within the amulet had gone back to where it was supposed to be, and yet Jareth didn't seem much better for it. "What happened?" she asked, her mind going back through the years. "Tell me what went wrong so that I'll know how we can fix it."

"Fractured, shattered, call it what you will, but know that there were too many pieces and not enough of anything to hold them together." His smile turned sharp and he began to stroke her cheek. "I've been heading to this end for centuries, you were just the luckless woman that pushed me over the edge." Jareth's strokes ran a bit higher, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Tell me, Sarah, are you any good at puzzles?"

She shivered, becoming uncomfortable; his touches weren't suggestive, but they lacked any of the warmth and familiarity that had once been present. It was as though he were simply touching her for the sake of sensation. "I solved your Labyrinth, didn't I?" she replied, pulling away from him.

His eyes turned suddenly cloudy. "Labyrinth?" he repeated, tasting the word as if he had never heard it before. Jareth's gaze turned inward. "It was a hard decision, but it had to made. They wanted to destroy us, to take our lands, all under the pretext of looking for some lost boy. I needed a defense, a way to wage war that wouldn't allow for many casualties on our side. A Labyrinth was perfect. And why not, after all it's easier to spring a trap when no one knows what's around the next corner. It was a sweet, two-fold danger, both mental and physical."

A hand landed on Sarah's shoulder from behind. "Has he been like this the whole time?" she asked quietly over Jareth's continued ramblings. "Lucid one moment then wandering through memories the next?"

"This is the first he's woken in nearly a year," Leshia answered gently, sorrow plain in voice. "He's disconnected, Sarah, from reality and himself, and none of us know how to help him."

"He asked me if I was any good at puzzles," Sarah said. "He didn't look completely sane at the time, but maybe it was a hint."

"But the real question is not how do we put him back together," Leshia answered, sitting down next to Sarah, "it's how do we _keep_ him together."

_

* * *

The Labyrinth, and ultimately the Underground as well, had been an exercise in Jareth's power and sheer force of will. By all rights, he shouldn't have been able to do it; the strength that he had been forced to wield for their creation had proven beyond anyone's doubt that the young King had more magic at his fingertips than anyone ever had throughout their long history. More magic than safe, wise, or sane. And he had suffered for it. People had become afraid of him, afraid of what he could do; for a time he had seen that mistrust and unease in even his father's eyes. That had been the damning blow, the one thing that had truly made him close away his heart from the world. He had lived for duty after that, for entertainment as well, but never for love. But people had noticed that too, and had accused him on more than one occasion of being heartless._

_Jareth had spent the past five years soul-searching, looking for answers as he wandered through memories. He had only tried to do what was best for his kingdom, but his best had always terrified them. Sarah had cured his resulting heartlessness, but he had messed that up as well. In all the years he had spent trapped within himself he hadn't found any answers. He didn't know how to be himself and not scare anyone; he was who he was, and little could change that. _

_But, for the first time in centuries, he wanted to try; he _was_ too brutal, too amoral, too self-contained. And maybe nothing could be changed, but he wouldn't know unless he tried._

_He could feel his thoughts closer to the surface than they had been in five long years, closer to Sarah. Maybe she was ready to try again, too; maybe this time they could work together to a positive end. The future was uncertain but, for once, Jareth found himself craving it more than anything else._

* * *

Leshia had hugged her before leaving to have a word with Oran. The move had surprised Sarah more than she wanted to admit; her family had never been overly affectionate and she had spent the past couple of years actively avoiding contact with people. It hadn't been the brief embrace of a polite acquaintance, or even the gentle reassurance of an old friend; it had been the hug of a mother glad to see one of her children back. She'd never been on the receiving end of many hugs like that seeing as she'd never had a stable maternal figure in her life. And Leshia seemed to know it, too, as though she sensed the lonely little girl within and decided to take her as Leshia's own. There was something about the other woman that screamed devoted mother in a way that Karen and Linda never had.

For the first time in twenty-four years Sarah thought she might cry because someone had touched her. Of course, she was already emotionally overwrought from the whole Leo fiasco and having faced Jareth, as well. Maybe she had just reached her emotional limit and was being fanciful… or maybe she had finally found a family that was in tune with who she was and what she wanted out of life.

Imm stared at her from across Jareth's bed. "Are you crying?" he asked suspiciously, as Laim shifted uneasily.

"No," Sarah sniffled stubbornly.

"Things will get better," Laim soothed, then added under his breath, "after all, I doubt they could get any worse."

Imm elbowed him. "You're here now, that's all that matters."

She nodded, then shook her head. "Maybe he seems better to you already, but what good will me being here do if I don't know how to fix him?"

"Perhaps we're all looking at this the wrong way," Laim mused, "we keep thinking that there's something we need to discover, some answer that we haven't stumbled across yet, but Jareth doesn't work that way. He's always laid everything you need out in plain sight."

"We must already have the answer," Imm ran a hand through his buttery locks, "we just haven't recognized it yet."

Sarah sighed. "Even when his sanity depends on it, Jareth has to do things the hard way."

"Would you love him even half as much if he weren't so maddening?" Laim smiled knowingly.

Sarah paused, mulling over the word, then shook her head and smiled. Ten years of denial and mistrust had gotten her nowhere; maybe it was time to be honest with herself. Jareth had touched something inside her in ways that she knew no one else ever could or would. "Perhaps not," she finally answered, the smile still playing around her lips, "but he would be infinitely easier to live with."

"I resent that," Jareth sing-songed quietly.

As one, Sarah and the Twins turned to look at him. His eyes had cleared and they all suddenly realized that he had stopped babbling ages ago.

"Are you always going to do that? Flash in and out of awareness with no warning?" Imm asked with narrowed eyes. "Because it's going to be a bugger on private conversations if you are."

"Be nice to your older brother," Jareth warned, "or he might have to hang both of you upside-down from one of the chandeliers."

"Notice how he never answered the question," Laim said to Sarah.

"Chandeliers," Jareth threatened again, a smile tugging at his lips.

"You know, that stopped being an effective tool of coercion after you taught us the subtleties of knot tying," Imm replied.

"But you know," Laim mused, "not many people can say that they've been strung up by a king and lived to tell the tale. Might be worth it, just for the prestige."

Jareth ignored them, turning his attention to Sarah. "You've never just played, have you?" he asked quietly.

She felt lost, like she was out in the cold, looking through a window at a bright world that she wasn't a part of. "I never had anyone to play _with_," she answered with all the envy of someone who had mostly grown up an only child.

"You do now," the three brothers replied firmly.

* * *

"_We should tell her family," Oran sighed, sitting down heavily on a sofa._

_Leshia settled at his side, laying her head against his shoulder. "We should bring them here," she amended. _

_He shook his head, absently running a hand through her hair. "It did us no good last time."_

"_Things are different now," she replied, catching his hand and linking their fingers together, "we've all come into this with our eyes open. There are no surprises this time."_

"_Then what difference does it make?" he asked. "We've already put them through so much, Leshia."_

"_Let there be no cause for worry, that worked against us last time. Let them be here for Sarah, I daresay she might need their support more than our own every once in a while," she said, though the tiniest hint of doubt colored her voice. "They are her family, after all."_

"_So are we," Oran responded stubbornly._

"_Don't make the girl choose, husband-mine," Leshia warned softly. "Don't make Jareth's mistakes. You can love her like a father without taking Robert's place; love her as he can't, or won't. Be there for her, just in different ways."_

_He sighed again, laying his own head atop hers. "You make too much sense sometimes," he accused._

"_We're possessive by nature," she replied, "but caging someone like Sarah will only alienate her. Be a true father, and give her what she needs."_

"_You tell me not to make mistakes, and yet want me to repeat the one that led us here in the first place?" he whispered. "We've only just gotten a shred of Jareth back, why endanger that?"_

"_It wasn't their fault, Oran," she said firmly._

"_Yes, it was," his words came out slowly, almost painfully, "in the same way that it was my fault, and Sarah's and Jareth's fault. We did this together."_

"_Then shouldn't we all be here to fix it?" Leshia coaxed. "And besides, if we're ever to truly undo what has been done, we'll need Toby."_

_He brought their linked hands up to press a kiss to her knuckles. "I'll do it for you, my sweet demon, not because I think it's right or even wise, but because I trust you."_

* * *

Karen had spent the past hour in a state of morbid fascination. Toby and Linda had been going toe-to-toe in a clever battle of words, disguised as civil conversation, and Karen hadn't been able to pull herself away from the spectacle enough to make them stop. She was somewhere between being proud of Toby and being embarrassed on Linda's behalf. It wasn't until the doorbell sounded that she found the strength to leave the room at all.

Had her mind not been elsewhere she might have felt the sense of déjà vu creeping up, might have recognized the tall figure behind the warped glass of the front door.

A blue man with silver hair was waiting patiently on the other side, looking no happier to see her than she was to see him.

* * *

A/N: Despite my euphoria at the ending of the fall semester, I was hit by a stubborn case of writer's block, which was only compounded by traveling, spending time with my family for the holidays, and the start of the new semester. I decided to just take a few weeks as a bit of a sabbatical to clear my mind, but I'm finally starting to feel creative again, so I'm back! Happy (extremely belated) New Years, everybody; may this one be more productive than the last one.

This chapter is dedicated to my friend Emily, in the hopes that she will recover from her sniffly illness soon.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth or any of its characters.


	14. Coming Together

Chapter Fourteen: Coming Together.

_There was a law among the people of magic that had outlawed the sport of Tapestry Jerking. Oran had been the king to instate it, claiming that the sport wasn't safe and their numbers were small enough without needlessly endangering their own lives. For the most part, people had ignored the law because few of them were fool enough to go Tapestry Jerking in the first place. Truthfully, Oran wouldn't have banned the sport at all if it hadn't become such a problem in his own life, and he had done it more out of frustration than anything else. _

_Unfortunately, it was a law that a select few _did_ care about, even went so far as to willfully ignore it. And they were about to induct a new member into their prestigious guild._

* * *

"Okay," Sarah said thoughtfully, "let me see if I've got this straight. All I have to do is shimmy my way up this tapestry and then rappel my way down again?"

"Right," Imm replied enthusiastically.

"And you'll be at the bottom, using magic to see if you can knock me off?" she pressed.

Imm frowned. "Well, generally speaking, yes, but it isn't usually with any kind of malicious intent."

"But isn't that unfair to me?" she asked nervously. "I mean, I don't know how to use my own magic like you guys do; I won't be able to defend myself!"

"No, no," Laim shook his head, "you don't have to. That's what Jareth is for."

"It's a game of trust, Sarah," Jareth explained while securing the tapestry in question over the second story railing. Luckily, the part of the tapestry that she would be expected to climb was over solid wall, which would make rappelling back down slightly easier. Provided she actually made it that far. "You trust me to keep you safe from the magic of the two guardsmen below and, in turn, I trust you to keep a steady hand and push onward no matter what you _think_ is happening."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she pressed further, still uncertain. "After all, you only just woke up and I'm sure you're really in no condition for this kind of pressure."

Jareth finished with the tapestry, then walked down the stairs until he was right in front of her. "Do you trust me, Sarah?"

"You're not well," she replied.

He shook his head and pinned her with a look. "Do you trust me, Sarah?" he repeated.

She suddenly realized that he had other reasons for playing this game than just for the sake of fun. Trust had always been their biggest problem; he had never been able to trust her in complicated or stressful situations and she had never been able to trust his actions. But this game would force them to, if they wanted to win, and Sarah knew they both had a competitive streak a mile wide. Perhaps this game was just what they needed; if they could trust each other for this common goal, maybe they could learn to trust each other in other situations as well.

Sarah nodded her head, then turned to face the tapestry. "What happens if I fall?" she asked, voicing her final hesitancy.

She noticed Imm and Laim dart a look to one another. Was that guilt shining in their eyes? "Try to land on something that looks forgiving," they said in unison.

"Oh, that's reassuring, thanks," she muttered under her breath, taking a firm hold of the fine piece of art that she had been talked into using as climbing rope.

"Ready?" Laim asked.

Sarah took a deep breath. "No."

"Set?" Imm sounded eager.

"Didn't you just hear me?" she asked, panicked.

"Go," Jareth announced loudly.

"Damn you all to hell," Sarah grunted as she began climbing. "At twenty-four, I'm the youngest one here, and I think that there are less childishly stupid ways for us to spend our time."

"Just enjoy yourself," Imm hollered.

"Easy for you to say," she grumbled, trying desperately to ignore whatever it was that had just zoomed past her, "you're not the one risking life and limb over here."

"Oh, we forgot to mention," Laim interrupted her complaining, "the winner gets a free lie."

"A free lie?" she repeated, jerking to the side as something warm brushed against her hip then disappeared. "What for?"

"For the next time we get in trouble," Imm explained. "The losers will be obligated to lie on behalf of the winners so as to get them out of trouble… or simply less trouble, depending on how severe it is."

"Where did you guys come up with this?" she asked, laughing when a bright pink turtle zipped in front of her and began nibbling on an edge of the tapestry.

"Jareth," the Twins answered together, then both made sounds of disappointment as the pink turtle was knocked off by a little dragon with six legs, all of which began holding together the small rip in the fabric.

Sarah shook her head and continued to climb.

_

* * *

Oran massaged his temples, wishing desperately for his brandy, but knew his wife would likely kill him if he took so much as a sip. Brandy had gotten him in trouble once already where Toby was concerned; he could not afford a repeat performance. But, damn it all to hell, one woman was hyperventilating and the other was glaring daggers at him. Robert looked as though he wasn't sure which woman to help and was beginning to settle for the possibly of punching Oran instead. Toby, thankfully, seemed more or less indifferent to the actual situation and was watching the hyperventilating woman with rapt attention._

"_Shouldn't someone help her?" Oran finally asked, indicating the darker haired woman._

_Karen's lips thinned further, but she moved to help the other woman into a sitting position. "Head between your knees," she murmured quietly while rubbing the other woman's back. The gasping continued, but became less violent. Karen turned her attention back to Oran. "What do you want?"_

"_The same thing you want," he replied smoothly, "an end to the suffering."_

"_It's been five years," Robert growled, "why now?"_

_Oran sighed and continued to rub his temples. "It's not my place to dictate the conditions," he finally said. "That's up to Jareth and Sarah. All I'm suggesting is that, for the first time in these five long years, things are looking positive, but no one can fully reverse the damage that's been done unless all the players are in place. Will you help or not?"_

* * *

Karen darted a look to her husband and then to her son. Not even two whole days ago she would have raged and blustered until the blue-skinned man before them had left her home, but Leshia's visit had talked a bit of sense into her. Cooperation was the key to fixing this problem that they all shared in, and that meant listening to Oran, even if she didn't like what he had to say. Just the thought of returning to that strange other world was enough to make her feel the way Linda looked: pale, confused, and desperately out of breath. She didn't like the idea of returning to that twisting hell, to that place where terrible beasts were disguised as people, but she understood the necessity of it.

* * *

Sarah had made it up the tapestry and had begun her climb down before her arms _really_ started to burn; being a librarian by profession didn't exactly prepare one for such rigorous activity. She had slipped the last couple of feet, letting out a shriek and then a laugh as she landed; mostly because she'd landed on Jareth, who hadn't so much caught her as simply given her something relatively soft to fall on. Frankly, this had been about the weirdest—and probably most dangerous—game she'd ever played, but she'd had a lot of fun and had been about to thank the boys for it when a voice rang out through the large hall.

"_Sarah Elizabeth Williams_, just _what_ do you think you are doing?"

She flinched. "Jareth?" she asked quietly from where she was still sort of pressed into his chest.

"Yes?" he responded in kind.

"If I turn around, am I going to see my mother?" Sarah was more or less frozen in place. She hadn't seen her mother in over two years, and the last place she had expected to receive a surprise visit at was Underground. How had she gotten here? Or, better yet, _why _was she here?

"Doubtlessly," he replied with a humorless smile, then flinched himself when a roar rumbled through the hall.

If she had thought that her mother's exclamation had been loud, it was nothing compared to Oran's thundering, "_Boys_!"

Imm and Laim snapped to attention and Jareth slowly turned her around to face whatever was waiting behind her.

It wasn't a pretty sight by any means. Her father and Karen stood close together, each with a restraining hand on Toby's shoulders who was looking at the tapestry speculatively. A little to the side of their cluster was her mother, looking overwrought, confused, and just a touch angry. Next to her was Oran, looking _more_ than just a touch angry; he was downright furious. His iridescent eyes were narrowed, glaring, and yet underneath that Sarah thought she saw a bit of panic as well.

"What the devil is going on over here?" Leshia interrupted from the second story balcony. She was about to come down the stairs to get an answer when her hand caught on the tapestry. A disapproving noise escaped her lips as she pinned her children with a disappointed look. "Oh children, not _again_! You know your father hates it."

"_Again_?" Linda shrieked. "You mean this has happened before?"

"Unfortunately," Oran replied, then turned his attention to Sarah and the boys. "You know Tapestry Jerking has been outlawed," he said quietly.

Sarah rounded on the Twins. "_What_?" she burst out. "You didn't tell me that!"

"What sort of people have you been associating with, daughter?" Linda groaned.

Oran stiffened beside her, though no one could have said if it was in surprise that the hyperventilater was Sarah's mother or if it was in offense on his childrens' behalf. Either way, it didn't particularly matter because Laim immediately declared, "She's not your daughter!"

Sarah leaned closer to him. "That's not a helpful lie," she whispered, trying not to laugh. When the Twins had told her about the winning prize she had thought that they would at least try to make it useful.

He bumped shoulders with her. "I never promised it would be," he responded with a grin, but some emotion that she couldn't quite name glittered in his eyes.

"She most certainly is," Linda argued, ignoring their whispers. "And if this is the sort of thing that she'll be talked into doing if she stays around you hoodlums then I won't stand for her being here a moment longer!"

_

* * *

She wasn't serious, Jareth knew; Linda was just acting on instinct and panic. All the same, her words made him burn. Take Sarah away? They couldn't do that, not now, not when he needed her the most!_

_But what if they did? Could he survive another five years without her?_

_He was overreacting, but he couldn't stop it. The problem with living in a shattered mind was that he had no control over which shard would take over or when. Jareth tried desperately to hold onto himself, to keep the fragment he was living through right now at the forefront of his consciousness. But the harder he tried, the faster he slipped away. It was inescapable._

_Linda Williams had made the Goblin King angry._

* * *

Sarah had always associated Jareth's thoughts with a tinge of coolness; as a matter of fact, that had always been the distinguishing factor between what were her thoughts and what were his on the occasions over the past few years when their minds had gotten tangled. Right now, though, he was downright cold, and that wasn't comforting. When she noticed that she was beginning to see her breath puff out in front of her, it was even less comforting. An arm suddenly draped over her shoulder, wrapping around her front; less than a minute ago that arm had been clad in unadorned white linen, now it was covered in black satin that eventually ended in leather gloves.

Sarah was momentarily glad that he was behind her so that he couldn't clearly see her face. She had closed her eyes almost immediately and done her best not to flinch. It wasn't necessarily that she feared this side of him—though sometimes she did—it was just that this was the first time she had seen the Goblin King in many years. Before, with Leo, that had been the young king who had made the Labyrinth, she was sure of it, and maybe that Jareth was more brutal and terrifying than the one behind her, but she would always be more wary of the Goblin King because he wasn't bound by anything but his own desires. The Goblin King followed no moral code, he didn't hold to honor, he took what he wanted and was more than willing to resort to trickery and manipulation. Every time she came up against him, her life changed.

"You have no idea what you've just stepped into, Linda," Jareth's mocking voice crooned from behind her. "You are not in the position to be delivering ultimatums." Linda had no idea that she was playing with fire. Her mother, after all, had absolutely no idea what was going on; she didn't have a handle on the situation.

Linda paled further. "How do you know my name?" she stuttered. "What's going on here?"

Leshia finally glided down the stairs, linking her arm with Linda's once she reached the other woman. "I can see that we're all going to need a nice long chat to straighten things out."

Reluctantly, everyone began to follow the serene woman as she ambled down the halls, looking for a suitable place to talk. Oran straggled behind the pack, putting himself just behind Jareth and the Twins. "I'm willing to put the Tapestry Jerking aside for something more important," he said quietly, "but we will be talking about this eventually, children." He met eyes with each of them, and it was possibly the most uncomfortable moment of Sarah's life. Ten minutes later, sitting across from her mother and trying to find the words to explain what had happened over the past ten years, she stood corrected.

* * *

A/N: This is the first time in a long time that I've actually managed to do two updates in two weeks, like I'm supposed to. I can't promise that I'll keep it up, but I'm going to try.

I want to send a big thank you out to everyone that's stuck with this story so far. I know it's been erratic, but I appreciate your perseverance!

Please Review!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, settings, or situations from the movie Labyrinth. I own the convoluted storyline, but that's about it.


	15. Coming Apart

Chapter Fifteen: Coming Apart.

The inter-family meeting did not get off to a good start. Leshia hadn't been sure how to seat people in the informal receiving room so she had left it up to individual digression; the only part of that plan that had worked smoothly was the fact that she and Oran ended up next to each other. Karen, Robert, and Toby had clustered together on a sofa, looking nervous but prepared to listen with open minds. Linda had thrown herself into a high-backed chair, pressing deep into its overstuffed cushions as though they would somehow protect her; for the woman who had taught her daughter how to unleash her imagination, she seemed to be having an awfully hard time accepting a fanciful reality. The stilted, somewhat separated seating arrangement would have been perfectly fine if Imm and Laim hadn't plopped down on either side of Sarah, both strangely poker-faced. The human half of the room seemed to have become tense at that, as though it were a declaration that Sarah was no longer one of them. To make matters worse, Jareth had refused a seat and was stalking around the room, hovering over each person in turn and generally making everyone uncomfortable.

Linda fixed her eyes on her daughter, as though she was the only safe thing to look at in the entire room. "What's going on, baby-doll?"

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to let the nickname bother her. Linda's voice had changed, the cadence had dropped and she had lost the hard edge from her tone; it was once more the honeyed voice that Sarah remembered from her childhood. She could remember being enraptured by that voice as a child, comforted by its warm folds, like towels fresh out of the dryer. The problem was that Linda was only a gentle and concerned mother some of the time, less and less these days it seemed. "I haven't told you very much about," she paused, struggling, "the last ten years, have I?" Had she really shut her mother out for that long? But she'd had to, Linda had hurt Sarah and her father more than either of them could say, and had _continued_ hurting them throughout the years.

"No," she shook her head slowly, almost regretfully, "I suppose you haven't."

"It started twenty-four years ago, Sarah," Jareth whispered in her ear, "not ten."

"Which would make this story vaguely creepier than it already is," she whispered back. "Let's try not to scare my mother any more than we have to, okay?"

He didn't answer, but placed both hands on her shoulders, standing behind her like a guard.

Over the next hour Sarah found herself stumbling through an uninterrupted narration of what had happened in the Labyrinth, looking at no one in particular and feeling incredibly wretched that she had to tell this story in front of Toby. Jareth didn't say a word throughout her story, didn't move from where he was standing, but she felt the changing pressure of his hands, the moments of tenseness, relaxation, and even reassurance. She was thankful for his concern, but she knew the next story would be even harder to tell. Re-hashing the events of five years ago was very low on her list of desired things to do, but it was suddenly just pouring out of her: he erratic and confusing relationship with Jareth, meeting his family, finding out what he had done to Toby, and finally what had happened when she had confronted him over it. "That was five years ago," she finished her tale quietly. "It's time to set things right."

Linda looked shell-shocked, silent for perhaps the first time that Sarah could remember. Slowly, though, her agitation became clear. "This is hard to swallow," she said, the sharp edge creeping back into her voice, "and I don't like it."

"_You_ don't like it?" Karen snorted. "At least you're not actively involved in this mess. You have no idea what it's like for us to be back here after what happened last time!"

"I take offense at that, madam," Oran said quietly, his voice deep and smooth but holding an unmistakable warning. "My home is not usually a house of horrors."

"Karen has always been overly critical and disdainful of others," Linda chimed in, ignoring the fact that she had been the one to start complaining.

Sarah turned away from the conversation, uninterested in listening to the escalating argument.

Imm bumped shoulders with her, finally breaking the blank expression that he'd been wearing. "Your mother's not quite how I pictured her," he said lowly, exchanging looks with Laim.

"She wasn't always… confrontational and callous," Sarah replied quietly. "She was actually a wonderful mother before the divorce. After my father caught her cheating on him though, it was like she was a completely different person. I swear that guy she's dating is toxic; the longer she stays with him, the worse she becomes. I can barely even reconcile the haughty woman you're seeing with the gentle mother who raised me."

"Life has a way of changing people," Jareth murmured sagely. He had moved from his position behind her shoulders, coming to stand in front of her and the Twins.

"I'm surprised you didn't say anything," she said quietly to Jareth. "You seemed pretty mad out there by the tapestry."

"Make no mistake, I _will_ be talking to Linda," he replied, a strange glint in his eye, "at length and in great detail, but only when the time is right."

Sarah didn't like the sound of that. She was also a little worried that he had said 'Linda' not 'your mother'. It was as though he were disassociating the two women in any way possible.

"Stop this foolishness at once!" Leshia's voice cracked through the room like a whip. In a peripheral sort of way, Sarah had noticed that the argument had been getting louder by the second, but the room was suddenly plunged into silence. She had never heard Leshia raise her voice before, it seemed so unnatural for the calm woman, but there was no mistaking the commanding air that had taken her over. "I _know_ I am not the only one here capable of seeing sense." She took a deep, calming breath, then continued, "We are all from different worlds; we barely know each other, and we do not understand one another. But, for the time being, we must cooperate, if for no other reason than that we are all stuck in this situation together. Discord will only undermine what we hope to achieve; we must lay our differences aside for the now."

Oran almost visibly came back to himself, smoothing out from the heated words and returning to calmness once more. "My Leshia is right, we all helped to create this problem so we all need to be here, working together, in order to fix it."

"Except for me," Linda interjected hotly. "I have nothing to do with any of this!"

Sarah was used to being ignored by her mother, but the fact that Linda had so readily rejected any involvement, not once pausing to think of her own daughter, hurt. She knew her expression never changed to reflect it, but the men at her sides both tensed, frowning, and Jareth's expression bled from brooding to positively dark.

"It is true," Oran carried on, oblivious to what was happening on the other side of the room, "that you simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But perhaps," he mused, "you were meant to be here for other reasons."

After several more protracted and extremely uncomfortable moments of conversation, everyone agreed that it would probably be best if the human half of the gathering could simply be shown to some rooms for a little time to reflect on the situation. As Leshia and Oran disappeared down the hall, her family silently following them, Sarah found herself staying precisely where she was, and wasn't particularly surprised to find that Jareth and the Twins stayed with her.

"What will happen to them?" Sarah finally asked, waving a hand to the doorway that everyone had just exited through.

Laim shrugged. "Well, father is certainly annoyed, but I doubt he's going to take those humans to the gallows over it, if that's what you're worried about." 'Those humans' not 'your family'. Laim had taken his older brother's lead and was disassociating her from them.

"No." Sarah turned her attention to Jareth. "You told me once that being Underground changed a person, infused them with magic to the point where they would have to remain Underground in order to survive." She took a deep breath, dreading the possibilities. "If that's true, what will happen to them?"

Jareth began to pace, restless and wild. "They will change," he said in an even tone. "Perhaps slowly, over the great length of many days or even years, but they _will_ change, Sarah. Just as you have and will continue to do."

Sarah's heart felt heavy. How many more sacrifices would everyone have to make? Her family didn't know the danger being Underground posed to them, didn't understand that if they stayed too long they wouldn't be able to return Above. And no one had bothered to tell them that fact either, she noted suspiciously. She cleared her throat, shaking the thought from her mind. "There's no… grace period at all?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"It differs from person to person," Jareth shrugged. "Robert could adapt in an instant, whereas it might take Karen literally decades before any sort of change makes itself apparent." He pivoted in mid-stride, turning to face her. "The problem is how saturated in magic this realm is, in comparison with your own realm. Your bodies aren't used to magic, or only possess latent power, and once you come into contact with a fresh source you begin to need it in order to survive. The changes that are wrought within you are created by magic, pure and simple, but they need that magic to fuel them. If you were to return Above, where it is so hard to come by, those changes would feed off the power within you, rather than out of the environment; you would literally wither away over time."

"That's assuming that the two realms stay separate," Imm interjected seriously.

Laim nodded. "Things are beginning to break through, Jareth; the spaces between the worlds are growing thin. It may not be long at all before the two realms are one again."

"Then no one would have to worry about which world to live in," Imm shrugged. "There would no longer be a choice."

"_We left the mortal realm for a reason_," Jareth snarled.

Something fierce lit in the Twins' eyes, but they refrained from commenting.

"I don't think you're in any shape to make sure that things stay the way they are, Jareth," Sarah said quietly.

"You doubt my power?" he asked dangerously.

"No," she replied evenly, "I doubt your control. You've only just regained consciousness, and even that has been a bit spotty. What if you slipped back into a coma while trying to fix this? What would that do to you, or the rest of us for that matter?"

Jareth shuddered, as though appalled by the thought, but didn't speak.

"These are trying days," Laim murmured, "but we must pick our priorities. Jareth" he turned to his older brother, "you cannot rule until you are whole again. How could you possibly hope to lead and protect your people without having full control of yourself?"

Jareth's anger didn't deflate, but he nodded his head in acknowledgment. "Well said, my regal little prince."

_

* * *

Jareth watched as Imm and Laim led Sarah in search of the rooms that her family had been shown to; she probably wanted to speak with them in private, although based on how hard it had been for her to recount the important events of the last ten years, he wasn't sure exactly what it was that she was hoping to say to any of them. He wanted to go with her, all the same, didn't want to leave her alone, but he would respect her desire for privacy and attend to pressing matters of his own. _

_Like Linda._

_Just the thought of her set his blood to boiling. He had encountered the woman many times in the past as he had watched Sarah grow; the woman had never bothered him then, and after the divorce she had rarely been a part of her daughter's life at all. How had the loving mother he had glimpsed changed so drastically into the oblivious and self-centered woman he had met today? It was a curious question, but the answer didn't concern him; the only thing that mattered was making clear to Linda the very fine line she was walking and the fact that her daughter's good graces may be the only thing able to save her fool head._

_Linda was easy enough to find, with the help of a crystal; the bobble was fragile and small, but he was glad to see that the power wasn't lost to him. With a jolt Jareth realized that he didn't readily recognize the room she had been placed in. No one ever came to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City, they waited until he went back to K'shent Mier or visited at Castle Aryn to see him. It had always been just the King, some goblins, Amyl, and the staff at this place. It was strange to think of how many people were suddenly in residence, and how many rooms he might possibly end up seeing for the first time since creating the castle because of it. _

_He shook his head, herding his wandering thoughts back to Linda. It was time for them to have a little chat before Sarah could interrupt._

* * *

"_Well… that went splendidly," Leshia turned to her husband, a sarcastic smile touching her sage-colored lips. It had taken them the better part of half an hour to find suitable rooms for Sarah's family, and the venture had proven to be more exhausting then it should have. She knew they weren't exactly in their prime anymore, but the fact that her and her husband were resting on a sofa after such a menial task seemed almost silly._

"_You have a strange definition of splendid," Oran ran a hand through his silvery hair, sighing._

_Leshia frowned. "This isn't like you, husband-mine; compassion has always been your strength, and yet you argued so quickly and openly."_

_He sighed again, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. "My control is thin and my temper is much too close to the surface. We have a chance to erase the damage that has been done, and yet all those humans can do is argue amongst themselves!" He took a deep breath. "We are at our most fractured when our unity is needed the greatest."_

"_Spitting in the face of Fate is never easy, darling," she snuggled into his side, "but we have done it before. I dare say it has become something of a speciality in this family. Everything will work out in the end," she soothed, "it might be a long and trying road, but everything will be fine, you'll see."_

_Oran shook his head, absently stroking a hand over his wife's hair. "I wish I could share in your optimism."_

* * *

A/N: References from Dramatic Orchestrations: the baby-doll nickname and Linda's 'honeyed voice', chapter 11; I really only did a sort of light-brush re-cap in this chapter because, by this point in the story, I would hope that no one really needs it.

Okay, I have to admit that I'm actually feeling a little bad about Sarah's mom being an annoying/heartless floozy and the fact that her name is Linda. I personally know a Linda who is very supportive and understanding, and I am very proud to call her my mother. Not that it bears any relevance to the story, but I felt like I had to get that out into the universe.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: I own the laptop this story was written on, the vague sort of premise that it follows, the story that came before it, and Jareth's family. All else belongs to Henson.


	16. A Tale Of Two Families

Chapter Sixteen: A Tale Of Two Families.

_Jareth's mind flashed through thoughts, too quick to hold on to them, too erratic to interpret them. He couldn't waste the energy to even try; all his efforts were in holding on to his sense of self long enough to confront Linda. The woman had been dropped into the middle of a storm so subtly brutal, so quietly violent, that she had no idea she was already drowning. He couldn't, in good conscience—and, Stars, didn't that make him want to laugh!—not warn Linda that she was walking a thin line, and one false step from her could spell disaster. In all fairness, she had no clue what she had entered, hadn't even known about this part of her daughter's life until just moments ago, but the record had to be set straight, if for no other reason than the sake of his tenuous grasp on reality._

_And for the purely sadistic pleasure of watching her squirm. He had his moments of fairness, though they often galled him, but he had moments of revenge much more often. Linda's words and her callous, automatic disregard of her only daughter had lit a fire in Jareth, an angry burning in his chest that had to be put out. Violence was not an option, this was Sarah's mother after all, so he would have to rid himself of the feeling through words._

_Words had always been his preferred weapon of battle, he thought fondly as he quietly stalked through the hall that would lead him to Linda's room. It was easier to wound a person with words because it was harder to raise a defense against a thought. Conversation was an intimate war with pricelessly high stakes, but the matching of wits was infinitely more satisfying than the meeting of swords. _

_Linda Williams was about to learn why it was exceedingly stupid to cross the Goblin King._

* * *

Sarah bemusedly watched as Karen tried to disengage herself from Imm and Laim. She was witnessing what was quite possibly the single most uncomfortable moment of her stepmother's life and Sarah was determined to revel in it for all it was worth. Humor aside, however, she couldn't help but notice a certain distance that the Twins were keeping from her family. It wasn't a physical problem—both boys had their arms slung around Karen's shoulders and were gaily showing her around the castle—but they seemed unable, or perhaps unwilling, to fully engage with their human company. The Twins' jokes were stranger than usual, their smiles were twisted; it was only when they turned to Sarah that they seemed to become something more of themselves.

"That's lovely, boys, really," Karen said haltingly, looking at the portrait of Imm and Laim's great-grand-something-or-other, "but I'd like to talk to Sarah for a little while. Alone."

"But we have so much more to show you!" Imm chirped loudly.

"Yes," Laim joined in, "there's so much for you to see!"

"Actually," Sarah finally spoke, coming to Karen's rescue, "I do want to talk to her. Why don't you two go find out what your brother is up to?"

Two sets of eyes quietly regarded her. Something that she thought for a moment might be anger passed from one boy to the other before it disappeared. Two blank smiles bloomed over the Twins before they bowed. "As the Lady wishes," they said together, then turned and left the portrait gallery.

"That entire family is strange," Karen murmured, rubbing her shoulders.

"The very best and the very worst of your dreams," Sarah agreed. "Although I imagine we're incredibly strange to them, too."

Karen shook herself and finally turned her full attention to her stepdaughter. "Are you all right?" she asked quietly, placing a hand on the younger girl's shoulder.

Sarah shrugged. "I'm a little frazzled," she answered, "but I think we all are. How about you, are you all right? I mean, what happened; how did you get here… and why was my _mother_ with you?"

Karen withdrew her hand, only to run it through her blonde hair. "Your mother decided it was time for one of her spontaneous, unannounced visits, but you weren't at your apartment so she came to the house instead. It was absolute murder. I don't care if that woman _is_ your mother, she's still a brat."

Sarah shifted uncomfortably. She knew Linda wasn't the best person, maybe not even a good person, but she was still her mother. For whatever it was worth, Sarah still loved the older woman, had continued to love her long after the novelty of having a daughter had worn off on Linda, it seemed.

"I'm sorry," Karen said a moment later, frustration obvious in her voice, "I didn't mean to—"

"We both know she has numerous character flaws," Sarah cut in, "I just wish they weren't so obvious."

Karen sighed heavily. "My own mother was rather the same, you know," she replied quietly, in a rare moment of connectedness to her tempestuous stepchild. "Not fanciful like Linda—she detested anything beyond her scope of reality—but she was very much callous and unconcerned with those around her. There wasn't room in her heart for anyone but herself." Her blue eyes connected with emerald green ones. "Don't run yourself ragged looking for her approval, Sarah. Trust me, in the end it isn't worth it."

With sudden insight, Sarah finally understood why her and Karen always butted heads. It was, perhaps, because a long time ago Karen had been like her: lonely with nothing but fantasy to keep her company, neglected, and desperately trying to seek out the affections of her own mother. To do that the older woman had had to give up her fantasy and had, in her own quiet way, regretted it ever since, perhaps even resented Sarah a bit for her continued imagination. They weren't so very different after all.

"So," the dark haired woman changed subjects, "where's dad and Toby?"

Karen rolled her eyes. "I left them back at the room, but I'd be willing to bet they aren't there any more. Toby seemed hell-bent on exploring, despite the fact that your father and I could spend the rest of the day sleeping off the stress."

"He's a little boy," Sarah smiled, "standing on the edge of a bright new world; I'd be exploring too, if I were him." She paused for a few minutes, casting idle glances around the portrait gallery, her eyes never staying on one painting long enough to truly see it. "Were you—"

"We came here by choice," Karen interrupted knowingly. "Things can't continue on as they have; I might not like it, I might not like _them_, but I'm willing to do what has to be done in order to straighten all of our lives out. I can't promise that there won't be more fighting, but we're here for you this time, Sarah."

_

* * *

_

"_Oh, joy," Linda sneered, "the one who manhandled my daughter is here. What do you want?"_

_Though he was loath to do it, Jareth had to admit that Linda was a stunningly beautiful woman who was just exiting the prime of her life. Her inky dark hair had lost some of its luster, but it was long with a hint of curl, her skin was pale and unblemished, and her eyes were a clear hazel. Gazing at Linda was eerily similar to gazing at Sarah, so much of the daughter was in the mother. But there was a meanness to Linda's eyes that her daughter did not possess, a cruelty that Sarah had thankfully not inherited. That was not to say that the younger woman wasn't cruel, she was, but hers was an intimate and personal cruelty, whereas Linda's was all encompassing. Sarah's harshness came from the fact that she did what she had to regardless of personal desire, Linda's came from the fact that she only did what she _wanted_ to regardless of the situation. It was really a shame that such a lovely package contained such a horrid personality._

_Jareth quietly shut the door behind him and moved forward, taking care to make sure that, no matter what, he would always be between Linda and her only means of escape. "It's amazing how you only acknowledge her when it lends a hand to your indignation," he remarked levelly._

"_And what the hell is that supposed to mean," she snapped, straightening on the sofa from her lounging position._

"_Do you know why you're here right now?" he asked._

_She shrugged, a petulant expression on her face. "No," she finally answered, flipping a dark lock out of her face, "as far as I can see, I'm only here by mistake."_

"_What is Sarah to you, Linda?" Jareth countered, digesting her previous answer. _

"_I assure you, Mr.—" Linda finally stumbled for a minute, unsure of how to address him._

"_Jareth," he answered, an unpleasant grin twisting his lips, "just Jareth."_

"_Ah," she frowned, subtly inching away from him, further back into her chair. "Well, Jareth, I assure you that, as I said earlier, Sarah is my daughter."_

_He shook his head and approached the woman, stopping within inches of where she sat. "Only part of the time," he said distastefully, "so what is she to you the rest of the time?"_

_Linda drew her feet up to the cushion she was resting on, clearly uncomfortable with how close he was standing to her. "I don't think I understand what you're asking me," she finally replied, fingers clenched tight to her modest-length skirt._

_Jareth tsked quietly, but his disapproval filled the small sitting room around them. "If you truly considered her your daughter and cared for her as a mother should, then you wouldn't wonder why you were here or dismiss your presence as a mere mistake. If you regarded Sarah as family at all you would be willing to put aside your own misgivings for the chance to support her."_

_Linda snorted indelicately. "She dug this ditch herself, so she can find her own way to climb out of it. It isn't my problem," she said firmly._

"_My point exactly," he snarled. "You don't act like her mother and you don't particularly regard her as your daughter, so this really isn't any of your concern. I'll kindly ask you to keep out of this matter until it is settled." He shook his head angrily. "You'll be playing with fire otherwise. It would be… unwise to use her as leverage when you don't even know the game that is being played."_

_Her hazel eyes narrowed, anger taking the place of her discomfort at his threat. The change was so remarkably familiar that Jareth knew he was staring directly at the person Sarah had inherited her stubborn streak from. "Who are you to tell me what to do?" she hissed indignantly. "What concern is the relationship I share with my daughter to you?"_

_He cocked his head, brushing a hand over her cheek, then tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. "Because, unlike you, I actually recognize when Sarah's been hurt, and I feel that pain as though it were my own," he murmured silkily. In a flash he had her chin in an iron grip, "And, I fear, I am walking a thin line these days, Linda. My restraint isn't what it used to be." He ran his other hand over her forehead, grimly satisfied with the fear at his touch that hid in Linda's eyes. "By all means, continue to provoke me! Throw Sarah into my face, threaten me with her! I will tolerate your presence, Linda. I won't enjoy it, but I will tolerate it, and do you know why?"_

_She tried to jerk against his hold, but was held steady. "Because of my daughter?" she snapped._

"_Ah," he crooned gently, "you are not so dimwitted as you appear. Yes, because of Sarah." Jareth finally released his hold on the woman's face. "Provoke me as you wish, but don't expect me spare you from the consequences of you actions unless Sarah demands it. Your future rests on her favor, Linda; I would do my utmost to please her, if I were you, because her good graces may be the only thing that saves your worthless hide."_

_

* * *

Robert Williams was a man who was easily eclipsed by the intensity of his children, the aloofness of his ex-wife, and the steeliness of his second wife, but he was a solid man, quietly supporting his family from the background. For that alone Oran had to respect him, and the more time he spent with the mortal, the harder he found it to dislike him._

"_You try to be there for them," Robert continued his own personal musing, "but, somewhere along the line, they leave you behind and you're left to wonder how your children got so far away from you." He sighed. "Sarah's a good kid, I know she is, but I just don't understand how she managed to get into this mess in the first place."_

"_Children will always have the innate ability to baffle their parents," Oran commiserated. "We simply do the best we can in raising them, and pray that it is enough to get them through life. Sometimes it is… and sometimes it isn't," he admitted, thinking of his own children. "Everyone makes mistakes when raising their children, and we all pay for the consequences together."_

"_We used to be close, Sarah and I," the younger man offered after a few minutes of silence. "It all fell apart after I married Karen, but for a few years she hung on to my every word." He shook his head sadly, "I still remember the day she was born. I knew, right then and there, that she was going to be a heartbreaker, I just didn't think it was my heart she was going to break."_

"_We lost two before Jareth," Oran said quietly, not making eye contact with the other man, "both born premature in a world that was never equipped to nurture such delicate lives. I think the loss killed something in Leshia, because I know it killed something in me; there is no pain so searingly vicious as parting with your babes before you even get a chance to truly see them grow." He sighed heavily, "But Jareth, when he came, was my greatest friend. I took him everywhere I went until he was old enough to walk, and then he followed me of his own will. I cannot think of happier days than those, when he was content to play at his father's knee. I suppose I didn't really notice him drifting away as he grew older, not until he had already taken the throne and… circumstances drove us apart."_

_Robert nodded sympathetically. "It doesn't seem fair that they get over their infatuation, but we never do; long after they've stopped confiding in us, our worlds continue to revolve around them."_

_Oran laughed, breaking the solemn mood. "How perfectly eloquent! You surprise me, Mr. Williams, though I suppose I should know better by now. It may be too soon to hope, but I begin to get the feeling that the coming days may not be so horrible as I had imagined."_

_Robert made a motion, as though tipping the brim of a hat. "I'd drink to that," he said._

"_So would I," Oran replied evenly, "but I fear my wife would kill me if I tried."_

* * *

"I said to find _your_ brother, not mine," Sarah raised an eyebrow at the Twins.

"Yes, but we've always wanted a little brother," Imm grinned from where he was sitting next to Toby, both of them covered from head to toe in flour.

"After all," Laim, also covered in flour, threw an arm around her shoulders, "we've already got the little sister." He smirked, "Why not have the matching set?"

Sarah jolted, suddenly struck by the familiarity of the scene before her. They were hanging out in a narrow stairwell, Imm lounging on the steps while Laim stood to the side and idly tugged on his long auburn braid. It had been her first real incident with the Twins, helping them make trouble with the kitchen staffed, and it was in an area much the same as this that they had hidden from the irate staff, and then declared her to be their sister.

She eyed all three of the boys suspiciously. "He didn't blow up a stove, did he?" she asked Laim, cautiously while indicating her brother.

"Unfortunately," Imm answered for his older brother, "you are the only one who holds that distinct honor."

Toby straightened from beating the flour off his jeans. "Sarah blew up a stove?" he asked, wide-eyed and eager for the story.

"I don't think I want to be here to hear this," Sarah interrupted quickly. "I was really just wondering if Toby knew where dad might be wandering around?"

"He's talking with their dad," the young boy said off-handedly, back to beating the flour out of his clothes.

"Alright, that's one less person I have to make rounds to, I guess," she shrugged, turning her attention to the Twins. "Do either of you know where my mother might be, then?"

All three boys looked a little disgruntled at Linda's mention in the midst of their merrymaking, but Laim shook it off the fastest. "Yeah," he nodded, his eyes dimming a bit, "I have a pretty good idea of where our mother might have put her. Come on," he said, turning to go up the stairs, "we'll take you to her."

_

* * *

Leshia was not particularly known for her tact or subtlety, but if there was one thing she was better at than anyone else in the castle, it was smoothing down ruffled feathers. Linda Williams was definitely ruffled, but she didn't seem to want to be soothed out of it in any way. "I understand that the situation is troubling—" _

"_Troubling?" Linda snapped. "I want to go home! I'm not supposed to be here and it's obvious I'm not welcome, either."_

_Leshia gently shushed the raging woman. "Guests are always welcome here," she murmured, inwardly wincing at the fact that mortal guests were especially welcomed in the Labyrinth, and few had ever returned to their world Above._

"_Ha!" the dark haired woman snorted. "Your husband and your son both snapped at me! That's hardly what I would call welcoming."_

"_My boys have always been overly protective," the serene woman shrugged. "They're just worried about how your presence might effect Sarah."_

"_They're out of line," Linda countered heatedly._

"_I'm not saying I disagree with them," Leshia added softly, "merely that their actions are a bit too intense." She sighed, "I don't want to be as callous as they are Linda, but you've been thrown into a world that you know nothing about, over a situation that you had no knowledge of, all wrapped around a daughter that you appear to have nothing to do with. I cannot fathom, as a mother myself, how there is so much distance between you and Sarah and how little that seems to concern you. This is your chance to do something for your daughter, for once, and if you're not willing to do even that then I recommend find some other way to occupy your time and enjoy this little vacation for whatever it's worth." Leshia shook her head as she made her way to the door; she had once gotten the sense that there was a gap between Sarah and her mother and she found it infinitely sad to now be proven right._

"_I care about my daughter!" Linda fumed, huffing herself up._

_Leshia paused, her hand already on the doorknob. "Perhaps," she conceded, exiting the room. "But not nearly as much as you care for yourself," she met eyes with the other woman for a protracted moment, then closed the door._

* * *

A/N: I've found that writing an unbalanced Jareth is really fun when listening to The Elephant Man soundtrack.

References from Dramatic Orchestrations: The second scene with the Twins references chapter 37.

Thank you a thousand times over to everyone who waited so very patiently for this chapter, who gave me the encouraging words and the time I needed to get back on my feet. Also, thank you to everyone who extended their condolences; it's been a rough three months, and I think it shows, but I'm climbing back.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Jareth, Sarah, Toby, Robert, Karen, Linda, the Underground, or the Labyrinth. Most everything else belongs to me.


	17. The First Puzzle Piece, part one

Chapter Seventeen: The First Puzzle Piece, part one.

In schoolrooms across the world, young children played with rubber bands. It was strangely inevitable, as though their young minds could not resist the simple tease it presented. What many of them did not know was that rubber bands were phenomenal examples of what was about to happen to the Above and Underground.

A rubber band was stretched tight, quivering with potential energy and then, with a snap, that energy was released, sending ripples through the fabric of the band.

With the space between the worlds shrinking, the Underground began to tremble, its magic stretched taut.

* * *

Sarah and her strange group of escorts made it to Linda's room just in time to see Leshia quietly close the door. The petite woman approached them, her head bowed just enough that her hunter-colored hair hid her expression. A sage green hand brushed over Toby's head, but when she spoke it was directed to the Twins. "Why don't you two show Toby the stables?" Her voice, usually so soft and gentle, had a curious edge to it. "I think Sarah and I are going to take a walk."

"I really wanted to talk to my mother," Sarah stepped forward.

Leshia shook her head, already linking their arms. "Give her some time to rest, my dear. I fear she needs it." And with that, Leshia drew her, gently but surely, out of the castle, until they were in the fresh air, wandering some of the innermost reaches of the Labyrinth.

The silence ate at Sarah. She liked the other woman a lot, but the moment her mortal family had set foot in the Underground, she had felt as though Jareth's family had been trying to keep them apart. "Is there any reason I'm being steered away from my mother?" she asked in a controlled tone.

Leshia looked to the younger woman, her hunter hair parting enough to reveal the sharp look in her blue eyes. She had always appeared calm, comforting, and just the slightest bit mischievous, but Sarah had long suspected that a dangerous nature laid beneath her unruffled surface; how else was she to contend with her children? There was a strange feral quality, an incongruent predatory light burning deep in her eyes, and it was unsettling.

After an uncomfortable moment, Leshia looked away. "Tell me of your mother," she commanded levelly.

Sarah sighed, her eyes darting to take in the scenery around her. "She was a good woman once; at least," she faltered, "I think she was good." She stared blankly, her eyes gazing sightlessly at the high walls that stretched around them, vine-covered and sprinkled with strange flowers, as she thought of mother. "You never really know what to think about a person sometimes," she offered after a moment. "When I was little, I remember my mother playing games with me, reading me stories, coddling me—but later, when I was older, she was distant, cold, and completely selfish. Sometimes, I can see a flash of the warm woman I remember, but with every year that goes by it happens less and less."

"It bewilders you?" Leshia asked, steering them toward an ornamental pavilion.

"I don't know what to make of her anymore," Sarah admitted. "I don't know if she was jaded and changed by the world, or if she was always so aloof and just pretended to be a good mother. I can't figure out if she loved me, or if I was just an interesting toy to her." She kicked at the gravel underfoot. "You know, Karen and I fight a lot, but at least we have _some_ kind of relationship; the older I get, the more I feel like my mother is a complete stranger to me."

"The people who are closest in our lives often have the power to hurt us the most," the older woman said after a moment. "I know you haven't had a very stable female influence in your life, but chasing after her approval isn't going to help matters; it will only give her more power to upset you." She drew them to a stop, bringing the younger woman to face her. "Now, I'm not suggesting that you cut your mother out of your life—that would be unreasonable—but I will give you this much advice: some bridges aren't worth mending."

Sarah stared into the blue eyes of the other woman, confusion furrowing her brow. "How can you afford to say that, given the mess that _your son_ left behind?"

"Ah," Leshia patted the younger woman on the should, "you see, there's one key difference between my Jareth and your mother: Jareth _wants_ to change. Until Linda is ready to make some sacrifices, all of your efforts will be in vain."

"I don't even know where to focus anymore," the dark-haired woman admitted with a shake of her head. "Jareth needs my help, I know that and I _do_ want to help him, but now my family is Underground and they're going to need help adjusting. How do I balance that out without overwhelming myself?"

Leshia turned them back toward the pavilion. "Don't let the world bury you," she answered seriously. "That was always Jareth's mistake. Don't get me wrong, it's wonderful that you have such a strong sense of duty to those around you, but you don't want to take on more than you can truly handle." She patted the younger woman's shoulder again. "Now, to put this in perspective for you: most of us are adults, and we can take care of ourselves, but Jareth is the only one _depending_ on you." She shrugged. "I don't want to pressure you, dear, but you're the only person he's responded to in a good many years. After what feels like a small eternity, we have hope, and I'd ask that you not jeopardize that."

"I understand that," Sarah stressed, "believe me, I do—but they're my family, I can't turn my back on them." Less than a day in the Underground, and she already felt all her old fears and strains returning. It was so hard to trust anyone when she had been consistently betrayed; Jareth in particular was hard to trust because he was always so unpredictable. And yet, beneath her mistrust and her worries, she still wanted to mend things as best she could. But at what cost? She herself was already damned, but her family had no idea what living Underground could do to a mortal. Would they end up trapped, just as she was? It was a heavy price to pay, just for one man.

They reached the pavilion, but Leshia hovered uncertainly at the threshold. "I'm not asking that you do. By all means, help them when they need it, but don't become their crutch. There are any number of people who are both willing and able to help your family through this time—and you're more than welcome to be a part of that process, but don't let them become dependent on you." She watched from the walkway as Sarah entered the pavilion, but stayed where she was, a longing look in her eye. "It wouldn't be fair to anyone involved. That's more stress than you need in your life, and what would they do if they ever couldn't reach you? They need to be able to survive on their own."

"Things are just changing so fast," Sarah sighed, sitting wearily on a marble bench. "It's hard not to cling to what's familiar."

The older woman smiled softly. "That's understandable, and I think we're all suffering from that same sentiment, but don't let that stop you." Her smile deepened. "I heard that, once upon a time, you were quite the stubborn and fearless young lady." She turned, and began to walk away, leaving the younger woman alone. "Where has all that courage and determination gone?"

Sarah watched her go. Had Leshia just challenged her? In the midst of everything that was happening, had the serene woman just tried to draw parallels between her run of the Labyrinth and the insanity that was going on around them now? She almost had to laugh at that; perhaps mother and son weren't so different after all. Jareth had always known how to egg her on, had known how to play her stubbornness and lust for success to his advantage. And, sadly, it always worked. She couldn't stand to lose. In a matter of moments, what had been a miserable challenge was suddenly a puzzle to be solved. Before that moment she had always let emotion cloud her judgment, and emotion was certainly still a factor, but cool intellect dominated her thoughts.

She had a problem; she needed a solution. Laim had suggested, earlier that day, that Jareth always gave people what they needed to solve one of his puzzles—so she had all the pieces, she just needed to figure out what order they went in. There was no time to get sentimental or to let her rocky history with the Goblin King get in her way.

Which was much easier said than done.

_

* * *

He floated placidly through the shattered remains of himself, idly wondering if there was a pattern there among the fragments. Guilt still ate away at him, pushed him further and further down, but with the advent of Sarah he no longer felt quite so _defeated_. _

_The coming days would be trying beyond compare, though; things were bound to go wrong with two such different families butting heads in the same castle. But then, that was merely the way of things: every time it looked as though events were becoming manageable, something happened to make them complicated once more._

_He understood, on some level, why all the players had been called up, but he couldn't help but feel that the timing could have been better. Sarah was already overwhelmed, and he himself was dangerously overtaxed; what were the two of them supposed to achieve when they were both nearing the end of their ropes? _

_Still, better to be overburdened and together, than damaged and apart._

* * *

Sarah sat quietly, idly taking in the lush garden that surrounded the pavilion as she thought over what to do next. She would have to talk to her mother eventually, but now that her mind was fixated on solving the puzzle Jareth posed, she found herself preoccupied.

Something rustled through the bushes behind her, drawing her attention. Curiosity nibbled at her—being Underground meant that she could come face to face with some of the most fantastical creatures—but it was merely a bird. A plain little sparrow hovered around the bush, looking for something to eat, then took to the sky when it found nothing. A strange feeling stole over Sarah as she watched it soar out of sight; no matter how different the Above and Under were, they still had some things in common. Even Underground they had sparrows, amidst all the goblins and monsters and spiraling towers.

Wait a minute, she thought, frowning. Spiraling towers? Since when had the Labyrinth had any of those? Granted, she'd never seen all of the giant maze, but she'd seen enough of it to know that those towers hadn't been there before. The walls seemed higher too, and more jagged; it was as if someone had brushed over and fortified the ancient trap with pure aggression. Was the Labyrinth growing? That thought had never crossed her mind before; she'd known that its pathways changed, of course, but she'd never considered the possibility that it was constantly growing and changing, making itself more challenging as time went by. It was an intimidating idea, a threat that was only diminished by the knowledge that she wouldn't have to traverse the Labyrinth.

"It's astounding, isn't it?" a voice whispered from behind her. It was a voice she was painfully familiar with, a voice that she had both longed for and dreaded from the first moment she had heard its rich murmur. A decade ago, that very same voice had whispered bargains into her ear, tantalizing dreams that she had wanted to grasp onto. It was the voice of decadence and sin, of pleasure and danger. It was the voice of a scheming Goblin King.

Cautious but curious, Sarah turned around. The sight that greeted her wasn't particularly surprising—Jareth had already appeared as the Goblin King from her memories earlier that day. Her lack of surprise didn't diminish his impact, though. Standing to his full and impressive height was a man laced with power—magic danced around his lean, black-clad muscles, a threat to all who displeased him. His silvery-blond hair danced wildly about his face, hiding eyes she knew were as blue and as sharp as an icy mountain lake. For a brief second, she felt as though she were a teenager again, facing off against a man she knew could outsmart and outmaneuver her a thousand times over. No matter how many times they crossed paths, the Goblin King never failed to stir a tendril of fear within her.

"It's curious," she answered carefully. "I don't remember it being quite _so_ menacing before."

He smiled sharply, his blue eyes peeking out from his flyaway hair. "It was," he sat down beside her, close enough to threaten and entice, "and yet it wasn't."

"It's impossible for you to give a straight answer, isn't it?" she rolled her eyes.

His smile softened, becoming more playful than predatory. "Danger has always lurked within the Labyrinth," he reached out to smooth an inky tendril behind her ear, "so it doesn't particularly matter what _shape_ the trap chooses to take." His hand strayed, caressing the length of her jaw. "_But_," he whispered, his eyes fixed to where they touched, "some designs are deadly for entirely different reasons."

She shivered, both from his touch and his tone. "What are you saying?"

His gaze sharpened. "Tell me, Sarah, are you any good at puzzles?"

The words were haunting, and she had heard Jareth speak them mere hours ago. But what did he mean by it? It wasn't good enough to point out she was facing a puzzle—she already knew that. What she needed to know was what _kind_ of puzzle it was. "I need more help than that, Jareth. You can't expect me to just suddenly know what to do."

The hand stroking her jaw turned her gaze back to the Labyrinth. "What's different out there," he whispered into her ear, "is different in here, too," his free hand grasped hers, placing it over his heart. "They didn't happen at the same time, they aren't a direct result of one another, but they are connected."

She let his words guide her, let his touches ground her thoughts. She had known that his very essence was irrevocably tangled with the Labyrinth, but now it seemed as though they were connected on an even deeper level. If she was understanding him correctly, then the cure to his madness laid out there somewhere, among the twisting walkways and hidden horrors. She had taken comfort, not moments ago, in the thought that she wouldn't have to brave the Labyrinth, now it seemed as though she didn't have a choice, and it was terrifying, but…

She had a purpose, and a place to start; she'd been issued a challenge, and now she had some idea of how she might be able to fulfill it.

* * *

A/N: IT LIVES! That's right ladies and gents, Listen For Thunder is back. I know that wasn't a particularly long or eventful chapter, but it was better that than nothing, right?

I am constantly taking liberties with Jareth's height. I know David Bowie is not a particularly tall man, but I've always pictured Jareth as at least a head taller than Sarah.

For those of you who don't read The Never Series, I owe you an explanation. I've been having a lot of problems in my personal life for a while, swinging between periods of massive creativity and complete apathy (which explains why I write like a maniac and then disappear for months on end). Some friends helped me work up the nerve to seek help for this, and I've been tentatively diagnosed with Bipolar II. It's a messy process—figuring out what's wrong and what can be done—and it's leaving my life in a constant state of change, which is extremely unbalancing. Writing has always been a stabilizing influence for me, so I'm back once more (with Labyrinth this time!), but I can't promise you guys anything.

Thank you everyone for all your great reviews! It blows my mind that Listen For Thunder has over 500 reviews, and that Dramatic Orchestrations has over 1,000!

Please Review!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable as having come from the movie Labyrinth, and I'm certainly not making money off of it.


	18. The First Puzzle Piece, part two

Chapter Eighteen: The First Puzzle Piece, part two.

Almost immediately, Sarah faced a dilemma. Jareth's words had given her a clue: "_What's different out there is different in here, too_." Well, the jagged towers were certainly different, and she had a feeling that she was going to have to visit each and every one of them to put things to rights. After so many years of apathy, she finally knew what she had to do, but it was being jeopardized by one thing: family.

Quietly, Sarah ducked behind a statue, slowly and erratically making her way toward her suite of rooms. A bemused Jareth followed behind her, not attempting to hide his movements in the least. "What _are_ you doing?" he asked with a grin.

She straightened up from her half crouched position and turned to face him. "We're going to have to go through the Labyrinth, aren't we?"

"It would seem so," he answered, obviously confused as to where she was headed with this.

"If your family caught wind of that, how do you think they'd react?" she asked pointedly.

Understanding dawned in his icy eyes. "They would want to come with."

She nodded, irritably brushing her long hair out of her face. "And if your family tagged along?"

"Your family would have to go as well," he answered knowingly.

"And they wouldn't be nearly as happy about it, believe me." She flattened herself against the wall, sneaking once more. "Besides, the more people that come with us, the longer it will take to get to all of the towers; we'll make better time if it's just you and me. So I suggest we get to my room as quickly as possible, strategize a little, grab any supplies we might need, and make a hasty exit."

_

* * *

Oran was hit with the distinct sense that something was _wrong_ long before Amyl burst into the room. Blessed peace had reigned for the past few hours, a time he had used to quietly get to know Robert Williams, but it seemed that peace was ending._

"_What is it?" he asked the obviously frazzled butler._

_Amyl, usually so careful and stately in appearance, looked as though he had run through every room in the castle—his dark uniform was wrinkled, his chestnut hair was flying out of its customary ponytail, and his tan skin was flush with exertion. "They're gone," he panted. "The kitchen staff noticed some food missing from the pantry and a chambermaid said she saw them ducking out a backdoor. I thought perhaps they had just taken a late afternoon stroll, but I checked all the grounds and all the rooms in the castle, and I can't find them anywhere!"_

"_Calm down, Amyl," Oran instructed, standing and offering his seat to the overwrought man. "Now, just who the devil are you talking about?"_

_For a moment, he said nothing, his breath whistling through his teeth then, almost painfully, answered, "Jareth and Sarah." He took a deep breath and collected himself. "No one has seen them for over an hour."_

_Oran felt dread grip his heart._

"_It had crossed my mind," Amyl continued, "that perhaps they had decided to stroll through a close part of the Labyrinth, but why would they take food for that?"_

"_Why, indeed," Oran murmured, fearing that he understood only too well what was happening. "Do you know what the drawback of having severely independent children is?" he asked of both men in the room._

_Robert gave a frustrated half-laugh. "They always think you're in the way," he answered. "They've run off, haven't they?"_

"_I fear so," Oran answered. "So we are faced with two options, gentlemen: we can stay where we are, or we can go after them." He pondered for a moment. "Of course, they may have left because they have an idea of how to fix Jareth, and our chasing after them might only complicate that… but, then again, our chasing after them may make the difference between complete success and utter failure."_

"_It's a tough decision to make," Robert nodded sagely. "For anyone who isn't a father, that is." _

_Amyl stood, smoothing his uniform. "Shall I inform the others?"_

"_Wait," Oran held up his hand. "We're interfering fools, but the least we can do is give the children a head start."_

* * *

The first tower was close, rising out of the ground like an angry stone giant just outside of the Goblin City. It hadn't taken them very long to get there, but now that they _were_ there Sarah couldn't help but feel a little lost. She had known that she needed to get to a tower, but she didn't have any clue what to do after that.

"How do you even get inside," she asked, circling the outside of the tower. "There's no door!"

But Jareth didn't answer, only stared blankly ahead. He had slipped into a semi-catatonic state just as they had reached the stone pillar, and it worried Sarah. She would almost prefer him raving like a lunatic to this eerie and glassy-eyed silence.

She turned away from him, and back to the problem at hand. "_Think_," she urged herself. "It might be a new challenge, but it's still the Labyrinth, where nothing is as it seems. There has to be a door somewhere!" As if drawn by some unseen force, her gaze lifted upward. There, nearly twenty feet above her head, was a wooden door. "Who the hell would put a door up there!" she shouted in frustration. "What good is it if you can't even reach the damn thing?" Worry and doubt began to override her. There was nothing nearby that could be easily stacked to access the door, and Jareth was in no state to help. What was she supposed to do without any resources, without any magic?

A sudden realization struck her. "I do have magic," she whispered, her emerald eyes widening. She didn't know how much, or how strong her magic was, but… She had forced an object to her hand once before, hadn't she? Granted, it had been a small glass orb and it had only been a few feet from her, but the principle was the same.

Curious and determined, Sarah carefully let her small and hastily packed bag fall to the ground, then straightened up to look at the door looming so far over her head. She hadn't used any magic in five years, didn't have the slightest idea of how to tap into or control that mystical energy that was supposedly inside of her, but she had to try; she had to remember what she had done with the Orb of Command those many years ago.

Somewhere, from Jareth, the back of her thoughts, or simply from her memories, a voice whispered out. _Hold your hand out in front of you_. She concentrated raising her open hand toward the door. _Now imagine a tether running between you and the object; wherever your hand goes, so too goes the object._ But this was different; she wasn't trying move a small bauble through a solid statue, she was trying to get a stone door to move down nearly two dozen feet. _Concentrate_.

With a deep breath, Sarah shook off her doubt and looking for that calm center within her. Closing her eyes, she pictured a strong rope in her hands, imagined it so strongly that she thought she could almost feel it. With both hands she tugged, but only met with resistance. She dug deeper inside herself, she had to have the strength somewhere; she refused to be defeated before she'd really even begun. Something wild and giddy stirred within her, something that was so wonderful it was almost terrifying. She grabbed onto that thrumming power with desperation, turned it outward, and threaded it through her rope. With every cell in her body humming, she pulled.

The rope moved so easily that Sarah almost fell over.

Carefully, without opening her eyes, she continued to pull. Her whole world narrowed to that one action, to the simple give and take of the rope in her hands, to the unrestrained wildness that flooded every part of her being. When the door finally hit the ground, when the rope went completely slack, she was surprised; she had thought to go on like that forever.

Sarah's green eyes snapped open; what was she thinking? The untamed restlessness suffused every part of her, made her itch for something, and she found it frightening that she had so completely lost herself in such a simple action. Was _this_ the nature of magic; was it always as dangerous as it was useful? If so, how had Jareth ever resisted its seductive call, how had he managed not to lose himself centuries sooner?

With a shake of her head, she turned to the man in question. She felt flushed and shaken, but now that there was a way into the tower, they had to move forward. Quickly, she reclaimed her small bag, then took hold of Jareth's hand and led him into the soaring stone giant.

_

* * *

Something shifted within him, became clear where it had once been hazy. He had lost sense of his physical body once again, as though a curtain had been abruptly drawn between him and it the moment he had neared the tower. Jareth wasn't particularly worried about it though; he had been able to hold onto his physical self more frequently, now that Sarah was there, and he knew that she would watch after him as his mind wandered._

_The clearness drew closer, a strange beacon in the shattered landscape around him. Tentatively, Jareth move toward it._

* * *

Sarah stopped for a moment, weary and out of breath. The tower had certainly looked big on the outside, but not _this_ big! She and Jareth had been climbing a spiral staircase for what felt like hours, until there was no hint of the door below them, and they still had not reached the top. Although she couldn't necessarily say that she was frustrated about this turn of events. Without a doubt, the stairs exhausted her, especially after her strange brush with magic, but at the same time she dreaded whatever laid at the top of the tower enough that this reprieve was a welcomed one.

_Don't stop_, Jareth's voice whispered in her mind, causing her to whip around quickly.

He stood on the step below her, putting them at eye level. His gaze was vacant, his lips unmoving, but there was a steeliness in his grip on her hand, and she knew she hadn't imagined his silent urging. She had no idea what was going on in his mind, no idea what he saw through those glassy eyes, but they still shared an empathic link, so she knew perfectly well what he was feeling.

Excitement flared through him so strongly that it began to whip through her as well. She wasn't sure what would greet them at the top of the tower, but if Jareth was eager for it, then she would continue to climb.

* * *

"_What do you mean, they're gone?" Karen Williams asked in a too calm voice. _

"_Just that, my dear Lady," Amyl answered in a matching tone. _

_Oran almost felt bad for having the stalwart and loyal butler break the news. Almost. He'd courted his fair share of disaster for the day, after all; it was only fair that someone else take a turn._

_Looking around the room, he tried to gauge everyone's reaction. Karen seemed to be gearing herself up for a fight; Toby, Robert, and Leshia were concerned; Linda was vaguely unaffected; and Imm and Laim appeared…considering. Oran shuddered internally; every time any single one of his boys got that far away and thoughtful look in their eyes, trouble had followed swiftly. _

"_Are we going after them?" Karen inquired very carefully._

"_Of course we are," Robert soothed his wife immediately._

"_Only, there's one small problem," Oran cut in. "The Underground is a large place, and we've no idea where they've run off to."_

"_We might," Imm spoke up._

_Laim nodded. "But you'll have to give us a few minutes to check on something."_

* * *

The stairs had ended on a simple platform, completely unadorned except for a door. Wary, but determined, Sarah had opened it to reveal one of the most curious rooms she had ever seen. Stepping into the room was like stepping into the world of a child's nursery. Books, block, and toys of all sorts littered the floor; the walls were splashed with bright colors, ornamental weapons, and exotic silk tapestries, while the floor was covered in plush rugs. What was this place, she wondered as she ventured farther into the strange territory.

A noise came from behind her, a strangled, pained noise that frightened her and tore at her heart. Whipping around, Sarah came to face one of the most bizarre and terrifying sights of her life.

Jareth was crouched low to the floor, one of the decorative swords clenched in his hand. The hilt of the weapon was a black metal that twisted and folded, slithering up his arm until her couldn't let go. A light encased him them, surrounding him in a warm and comforting glow, and briefly Sarah wondered if this was what was supposed to happen.

Then he started screaming.

_

* * *

The sight the Twins walked in on wasn't a pretty one. Jareth knelt in the center of the tower's sole room, agony wracking his frame, as Sarah stood to his side, wide-eyed and unsure of how to help him. They reached her side just as she was about to lay her hand on the sword Jareth clutched._

"_Leave him be," Laim told her, laying a hand on her shoulder and steering her away._

"_But he's in pain!" she shouted, sounding near tears._

_Imm took her cold and shaking hands into his own, trying to calm her. "It's supposed to happen. Although…" he trailed off uncertainly, darting a look to his partner in crime._

"_What?" Sarah became, if possible, even more panicked._

"_It's a tricky sort of magic," Laim explained. "Most of our kind don't bother with it because of how exhausting it can be."_

"_Regenerative magic is a dangerous business," Imm nodded. "Most run out of magic long before they finish the regeneration." He almost laughed at her stricken look. "But Jareth has always had more magic than any of us have ever been able to comprehend."_

"_He'll be whole again, after this?" she asked, darting worried eyes to where their brother shuddered at some inner torment._

"_Judging by the state of this room," Laim ventured, "I would say no. This is just a child's room, so I would think it's only the beginning."_

_Sarah looked around, a frown marring her face. "What does the state of the room have to do with anything?"_

"_You don't get it yet, do you?" Imm asked, not unkindly. "Jareth's got a lot to answer for, a lot of old hurts that need fixing before he can completely heal. He isn't just mending himself, Sarah, he's rebuilding. And he needs your help to do it."_

"_We really do need to go to all of the towers, don't we?" She asked, a hint of melancholy in her voice._

"_Jareth built all of this before any of us even knew it was going to be necessary," Laim answered. "You'll have to go to all of the towers because that's the way he built it, but you can take comfort in the fact that you probably won't have to go anywhere else."_

_An unnatural hush settled over the room, causing the three of them, somewhat unwillingly, to seek out Jareth. And it was Jareth they found, but he had changed. The tall and lithe man had been replaced with a young boy, but there was no doubt it was still the same person. Unearthly white skin, silvery-blond hair, and icy blue eyes were all too distinctive of Jareth for the boy to be anyone else._

_Sarah's emerald eyes turned to the Twins, confused and frightened._

"_Like I said," Imm soothed, "he's rebuilding."_

"_So, with each tower we climb, he'll get older?" she asked._

"_No one can say, save Jareth himself," Laim half-smiled, "and I don't think he's in any position to at the moment."_

_The three watched as the young boy, no older than five or six, dropped the sword and laid flat out on his back, apparently resting._

"_We'd like to help you deal with this," Laim interrupted the silence, "but we came to tell you that the families have noticed you're both missing, and they want to look for you."_

"_No," she groaned. "I'll admit that I'm probably in over my head here, but something keeps telling me that I have to do this alone."_

_Laim didn't have the heart to point out that it was probably a guilty conscience prompting her to take on this burden single-handedly. "We had a feeling you would say that, so we'll help you the only way we know how: one way or another, we'll keep everyone else as far away as possible."_

"_Thank you," she breathed out, her smile as shaky as her hands. "That's one less thing I have to worry about. I have to wonder though, why are you offering to do this for me?"_

"_We want to see Jareth healed just as much as you do," Imm answered. "And besides," he continued with a grin, "I still owe you a lie, don't I?"_

* * *

A/N: There's some slight parallelism between this chapter and chapter 38 of Dramatic Orchestrations, just as there's parallelism between the tower door and the Orb of Command. Also, the lie that Imm is talking about was from the Tapestry Jerking adventure, in case anyone had forgotten (and it's been long enough for some memory lapses).

This chapter came out frighteningly fast, but it was my last day of Spring Break, and I didn't get much of a response for the last chapter, so I thought I'd write some more.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!


	19. A New Protector?

Chapter Nineteen: A New Protector?

_Thoughts flashed in his mind like brilliant bursts of colored lightning. He remembered thousands of things at once: old friends, favorite games, beloved fantasies, and greatest fears. Cherished memories came back to him from the murky depths of the past, enfolding his mind in the simple delight of remembrance. _

_Jareth knew he had changed, knew his first trick had worked just as it had been meant to. In a technical sense, he was no longer shattered on the inside, because he had forced everything within him to start anew. Slowly, with each tower, he would be able to reclaim more and more of himself; it was an idea that was bordering madness just enough to be considered pure genius. There was, however, a drawback._

_Sarah._

_Lovely little Sarah had to be prepared to go through the depths of hell with him, because he knew he couldn't do it on his own, wouldn't trust or want anyone else to help him through this journey. The problem was that his memories of her were slipping, being overshadowed by this new childish body that had never known her. In moments, he would forget her completely. Would she be hurt at that realization? Would he still follow her, even when he no longer knew who she was? Hundreds of worries swarmed at him, but they grew hazy as the moments passed by, until all he could think of was Sarah. With a strange desperation, he held on to the image of her lovely face, the way her inky-dark hair framed her jewel bright eyes or the way her lips so easily pinched into a frown and shyly curled into a beautiful smile. He held on to those thoughts until the very end, until he was left with nothing but the stray memory of emerald eyes and the overwhelming sense that he had lost something profound._

* * *

Sarah doubled over, her senses reeling. She had been watching the boy-Jareth nap when a nerve snapping _something_ had slammed into her. Her heart was racing, her chest was tight, and her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. _What had just happened?_

Slowly, she reached inward—just as Jareth had taught her to do so very long ago—and made the strange journey to the world within herself. She hadn't done this in ages and, despite the fact that she had been told the first time was always the worst, she felt that this time, perhaps only her second or third trip ever, was just as bad. The world around her melted away, leaving her with the sense that she had nothing to hang onto, had nothing to keep herself from fading away as well. She would have panicked outright if she hadn't been able to still feel the comforting pressure of the floor underneath her or hear Jareth's quiet, even breathing. With that thought in mind, with that anchor to keep her from flying off into a misty vacuum, Sarah rode out the worst of it.

In almost no time at all, the horridness disappeared, giving way to a purely magic space. It was a cavern of sorts, filled with lights and gems and the heavy restlessness of her magic, making her itch. Something was missing though. Sarah paced the cavern, becoming confused. It had been bigger last time, hadn't it? There had been depths unknown to this place before, and a strange coolness that had jumbled her senses.

Abruptly, she knew what was wrong: that coolness was missing. Part of her inner cavern had collapsed; that part that lead to Jareth, that part that had kept them so closely connected for so many years, had been cut off.

She reeled anew, coming back to her senses with a suddenness that was nearly painful.

They weren't connected anymore, she thought dazedly. _Why_ weren't they connected anymore?

_

* * *

Leshia regarded the gathering with shadowed eyes. Something wasn't right here. Amyl discovered that Jareth and Sarah were missing, and Imm and Laim just happened to know where the pair in question had wondered off to? It was simply too convenient. The Twins had disappeared for nearly an hour, only to burst back into the sitting room announcing that they knew precisely what to do. In a matter of minutes they had had everyone entrenched in a flurry of activity, making preparations for an extended journey through the Labyrinth. Now, two hours after deciding to go after the children—and who knew how many hours after Jareth and Sarah had actually left—Leshia couldn't help but feel that the Twins were trying to get them lost on purpose._

_Suspiciously, she conceded that she could already taste the bittersweet tang of trickery. But if the Twins weren't planning on leading the two families to their missing members, then where _were_ they going? The boys had to know that they could only lead the families on a merry little chase for so long before someone demanded to know what their ultimate destination was._

_More than that, Leshia was curious as to why they were doing this. What could Imm and Laim hope to gain by keeping everyone away from Jareth and Sarah? Unease built within her as she pondered that question. It was an emotion that she was ill equipped to handle, and her natural power of serenity stuttered enough to make those around her jittery with nerves. _

_She didn't like the idea of her babes being out of her reach, didn't want to think what could happen as such a small and vulnerable pair traveled through the Labyrinth, but maybe… Maybe it was necessary. The idea chaffed; Leshia's race was notoriously possessive, and it was instinctual for her to keep her family close. However, she conceded that just this once, perhaps it was better to let the children choose their own course._

* * *

Sarah watched uneven blue eyes blink open. Jareth sat up gingerly, his gaze taking in the whole of the room almost immediately, finally coming to rest on her. That blue gaze was, all at once, both painfully familiar and frighteningly distant. Not to say that he was in any way threatening. On the contrary, he appeared to be a very friendly, rambunctious child who was willing to let anyone in on one of his games, but…

He didn't recognize her.

Most times, when she looked into Jareth's eyes, she could see hundreds of emotions lurking just beyond his calm façade. But no matter what, he had always looked upon her with a strange combination of longing and defeat, mischief and melancholy. She saw none of that now, just the eerie blue gaze of a young boy one day destined to be king.

Jareth stretched, then smile so widely that it lit up his entire face. "What's your name?" he asked eagerly.

"Sarah," she answered, hurt to know that she was no longer a part of him. But maybe it was better this way, she conceded as she fought down confused tears. They had inevitably seemed to bring out the worst in each other, had butted heads so much that maybe they just weren't meant to be. Perhaps now, after this whole ordeal was done, they would both be able to move on.

His eyes flashed strangely at the mention of her name, but it didn't seem to stir up any memory of her. "I'm Jareth," he offered, his wide grin slipping away. Carefully, he stood and walked over to her, moving as though he didn't wish to startle her. He sat down next to her, his small hand reaching to touch her cheek. His fingers came back wet, and he inspected them grimly. "Why are you crying?" he asked gently.

His innocent question made her tears flow harder, and with a sob she pulled him close, burying her face in his shoulder. The sudden movement didn't bother him, and if having a 'stranger' hold him so close frightened Jareth, he didn't show it. Instead, he wrapped his small arms around her, cuddling closer.

"I'm scared," Sarah answered after a moment. "I've never been this scared before."

"I'll protect you," he stated bravely, puffing up in her arms to make himself appear bigger.

She laughed bitterly, "You don't even know me."

"You're a nice lady who's crying," Jareth replied. "What's to know? Besides," he continued, pulling away from her a little, "I'm the only other person here; there's no one else to protect you."

It was easy to forget that he was from a completely different time than Sarah. She was used to doing for herself because she knew no one else would, whereas Jareth had probably been raised to believe that women were meant to be taken care of. The idea was as irritating as it was thrilling. He probably held chivalrous ideals close to his heart—he was just at that age where being noble held more appeal than being powerful—and who was she to trample that? If she told him that what she feared wasn't something he could fight—namely, his reaction to her, or lack thereof—it would break his heart. On the other hand, she still needed to get him to the next tower, and he had already handed her the perfect way to ensure that. If Jareth believed himself to be her protector, then he would follow her no matter where she went.

"You're right," she conceded, feeling a little rotten for using his childhood ideals against him, "there isn't anyone else to protect me, and I'm on a very dangerous journey."

He leaned back even farther, looking her in the eye. "Really?" he asked excitedly, his smile creeping back.

She almost grinned at his simple joy. "Really," she answered, standing to face the only window in the room. "You see that tower way out in the distance?" she asked, pointing out to the murky shape beyond their own tower.

"I do," he nodded. "Is that where you're headed?"

"Yes," she answered, "it is. And I'm scared to go there alone."

He grabbed her hand and started leading her toward the door. "Don't worry," he bounced, "I can get you there, no problem."

"Wait a minute," she managed to bring him to a stop. "You'll need clothes first."

_

* * *

For the first time, Jareth noticed that whatever he was wearing was much too big for him. How had that happened? He pondered it for a few moments, but every time he came close to a theory, the thought shied away from him. Oh well, he shrugged it off, he had bigger things to worry about._

_Like Sarah._

_He found her strangely compelling, he thought as he quickly shed his clothes. There was something about her that called to him. She wore loveliness like a pretty dress, but there was also a desperation about her, and a strange sadness that lingered in her eyes. Simply put, he found himself too curious to leave her alone. She wanted to travel to some tower? He'd be more than happy to take her there because that meant he wouldn't have to leave her side. It was strange for him, a young prince, to be so thoroughly captivated by a human._

_Jareth shook his head, putting the thoughts to rest for a while. Clothing posed a bigger problem for the moment. Slowly, he turned around the room, taking in every detail with hawkish attention. Admittedly, he didn't have much to work with, but a silk tapestry could easily be turned into a robe—all he had to do was add some holes for his arms and find something to cinch it closed. Not difficult at all, he smiled, taking down an emerald green tapestry._

_Before long, he had a useable outfit. The fabric fell around him in patterned waves of emerald and gold, but no amount of finessing could make it fit him perfectly. Without being able to sew the tapestry into a more familiar and appealing shape, the best Jareth could do was fold parts of it and use some bent pins he had found to keep everything in place. It was still a little overlong and kept slipping off his shoulders, and he had a feeling that before long he'd be wearing it like a kilt. Still, it was good enough to travel in, and the color reminded him of Sarah's eyes, which was perfectly fitting since he would be her companion for the time being._

* * *

In many ways, the Underground was just a vast stretch of land that had been taken from its natural environment. Since then, it had grown and mutated, but parts of it would always bear the memory of original form. There were mountain ranges that had been ripped from its craggy brothers, lakes and seas that had been split in two, valleys that had been torn asunder, all to create a new place. But that new place had just been created by slapping together old parts, and those old parts had never forgotten where they came from.

The Underground sensed the magic keeping it tethered weaken, and hungered for its home with a keen viciousness.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was much shorter than expected, but important things were established, and it came out close to on time. I'm thinking the next chapter will be much longer but, seeing as it hasn't been written yet, I make no promises.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Jareth, Sarah, Sarah's family, or the Underground.


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